


Purge Night

by spaztronaut



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Purge Fusion, F/M, Horror, There's a lot of murder in this just saying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaztronaut/pseuds/spaztronaut
Summary: Felicity is caught in the Glades during the annual Purge. She's rescued by a man who claims he can keep her safe, but when things start to go wrong—and boy do they ever—she might find herself back on the streets, even worse off then before.(An Olicity au based on the movie The Purge.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I meant for this to be a one shot for Halloween *sigh*, but it became a monster that is just too long for me to subject people to without some sort of breaks so it’s now a multi chapter. I apologize for any mistakes. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

** **

**1 Hour Until The Annual Purge**

Felicity felt fear burst in her chest along with the tire of her Mini Cooper.

Screeching to a halt on the side of the road, she checked the clock on the dash. 6:03 p.m. Okay. She still had almost an hour. She could do this. She just needed to change the tire and get home. Easy.

Twenty-five minutes and a whole lot of expletives later, Felicity decided it wasn’t that easy. She was a fracking genius, but she couldn’t change a tire? She didn’t care that her heart was pounding in her chest, the adrenaline pumping through her system causing her hands to shake. She was a capable person who could do this!

Only she couldn’t. She only had half an hour to get home now and she couldn’t waste anymore time on the damn tire. Getting caught in the Glades during the Purge was a death sentence. She needed to get home, lock up and hope that her makeshift defenses would be enough to keep her safe through the night.

She climbed back into the driver’s seat, pulling the door closed and starting up the engine. The car lurched forward when she stepped on the gas, jarring her every time the flat tire made a complete rotation as she crawled along the curb. Every time she tried to pick up speed the wheel would wrench to the right, trying to pull her up onto the sidewalk.

“Goddammit!” she cried after a few minutes of fighting with the flat from hell. She punched her steering wheel twice, feeling the panic rise up into her throat. She was going to throw up. She was definitely going to throw up.

The clock read 6:37 p.m. now, the sun already dropping low behind the buildings. She had no choice. She needed to get off the street. Now. Before it got any darker.

Hopping out of the car, Felicity grabbed her purse and her keys, making sure to tuck the pointy edge of her car key between her fingers just in case. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but she wouldn’t hesitate to use it if someone approached her. She should have taken that gun her mother had tried to give her a few months ago for Hanukkah…

She’d made it a few blocks before she started seeing the people in masks; baseball bats, machetes and even a machine gun or two in hand as they wandered menacingly through the abandoned streets. Well, abandoned except for Felicity who was the only person in the city stupid enough to be out so close to curfew.

She’d just needed to stop at Tech Village after work for one part. Just one little processor that would hopefully help keep her security system locked down tightly. She should have done it yesterday! Except she’d stayed late at work to help make sure Queen Consolidated would be impenetrable. So now the Fortune 500 company she worked for was locked down to hackers and Purgers alike and she was going to be beaten to death by a baseball bat in the middle of the Glades. And that was if she was lucky! If Felicity survived this she desperately needed to get her priorities in order.

She was keeping her panic in check until one of the masked men whistled at her. Felicity hurried along, managing to make it another couple of blocks before she realized the man was following her. He weaved back and forth on the opposite sidewalk, dragging his machete along the concrete with a metallic hiss. He was wearing a clown mask and Felicity silently prayed to any god that would listen that she had enough time to make it back to her house before 7 p.m., but she knew she didn’t. She had minutes left, at most, before someone—probably this man—came after her.

Silent tears dripped down her face as she started to run, the man in the clown mask laughing behind her.

“Run, sweetheart, run. I’ll still catch you.” His voice was muffled and indistinct behind his mask, but Felicity could hear the sick amusement in his tone. If he caught her she wouldn’t die quickly. She knew that already.

As soon as she could, she ducked down a side street that would let out closer to her place. It was still a fifteen minute walk, but she could make it. It would be close, but she could do it. She could. The people in her neighborhood seemed nice enough, not like the kind of people who would purge. If she could just get close enough she was sure she’d be alright.

When the siren rang out several minutes later, announcing the commencement of the annual Purge, Felicity’s tears began in earnest. She wiped at them, trying to get herself under control. She needed a level head if she had any hope of making it home tonight.

She’d managed to pull herself together by the time she got to her neighborhood. Thankfully she’d been able to lose the man in the mask and hadn’t run into anyone else. She was still two blocks away, but she was there, she was right there—

The sound of gunfire erupted nearby and Felicity dove to the ground, scraping her palms when she tried to catch herself. Her purse spilled out onto the sidewalk and Felicity abandoned it, gripping her keys tightly as she pushed herself to her feet, ready to run the remaining distance.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

It was her only warning before she was pushed back to the ground.

She cried, rolling onto her back and kicking out at the clown, hoping to connect to his crotch. Instead her flat glanced off his thigh and fell from her foot. The man in the mask laughed, swiping her other foot out of his way. He leaned closer, pointing at her with his machete.

“You be a good girl, sweetheart, and I won’t make it too painful. Just relax.”

Blindly reaching back, she grabbed her purse and swung it desperately. Whatever he had planned, she’d be damned if she was going to go down without a fight. She managed to catch him in his mask, knocking it askew. Taking the opportunity, she scurried backwards while he tried to right it.

“You bitch!” he screamed, getting his mask back in place enough to see. Felicity heard gunshots in the distance, could already smell smoke in the air. She saw the man in the clown mask raise his machete, poised to strike her down.

BAM. BAM BAM.

The man in the mask flinched, his grip on the machete loosening until it slipped from his fingers. She watched him fall to his knees, blood beginning to bloom from three spots on his chest.

“Ma’am? Ma’am!”

Felicity quickly sat up, pulling her legs closer to her to keep the man’s body from crushing them. He dropped to the ground barely a foot from her, a deep crimson puddle already pooling beneath him.

“Ma’am? Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

It wasn’t until a tall black man stepped into her line of vision that she realized someone had been speaking to her. She flinched away and the man put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. That’s when she noticed the gun still gripped between his palm and forefinger.

“You killed him,” she said softly, but it was enough for him to hear her.

“He was about to kill you. I think I made the right choice.”

The man’s voice was quiet and calm, even in the middle of all of the madness going on around them. More gunshots sounded from close by and yelling. Lots of yelling. Screaming. The man’s calm voice, in the middle of all the noise, made her want to latch on to him and never let go, even though she knew how terrible an idea that was tonight of all nights.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” The man’s eyes darted around to their surroundings. “But you can’t stay out here. It isn’t safe.”

“I live right over there.” Felicity gestured behind her, in the general direction of her apartment.

“Is it safe?” the man asked, glancing to where she’d pointed.

“Safer than out here,” she said, crawling forward and scraping up the spilled contents of her purse before retrieving her flat. She stood, putting her back against the wall as she watched the man who’d killed someone for her.

Or maybe he’d just killed someone to kill someone and saving her was a happy coincidence. Maybe he would kill her too. Maybe he would hurt her in other ways. There were so many ways to hurt someone on Purge night, the least awful of which was death.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man repeated. “Let me make sure you get home, okay? Or, better yet, let me take you with me.”

The fear that blossomed in her gut must have shown on her face, because the man took a large step back, putting his hands back into the air.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I’m going to a safe house,” he explained quickly. “A real one. No one can get in that isn’t specifically invited. I can get you in. You’ll be safe until morning.”

Felicity swallowed roughly, trying not to calculate just how close the screams were that were echoing through the falling darkness. A real safe room sounded like a dream come true on Purge night, but she wasn’t sure she could trust it. She didn’t know this man and she wasn’t naive. She knew about the human trafficking that happened during the Purge and a small blonde, alone and out on the street past 7 p.m., was the perfect target.

“My apartment has security,” she said, though she knew it wasn’t the same as a safe house. She could never afford the kind of defenses that would truly keep her safe during the night. The reason she’d gotten the apartment so cheap in the first place was because the man that’d lived there before her was kidnapped during last year’s Purge, right out of the building. She’d heard the neighbors talking about it.

The man nodded, taking another step back, and Felicity finally noticed the black town car sitting beside the curb. The driver’s door was hanging wide open, from when he must have jumped out to save her from being hacked into teeny tiny pieces. A shiver ran down Felicity’s spine at the thought and she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t look down at the dead man lying at her feet.

“Look, I get it. You don’t know me and tonight isn’t exactly the night to go around making new friends.” She blinked up at him, her lips pulling up at the corners. It definitely was not the night to be making friends, but something in her gut told her this man _could_ be a friend. On any other day she wouldn’t hesitate to trust his kind eyes, steady tone and calm demeanor. “But it’s not safe here and I have an in at one of the most secure places in Starling City,” he continued. “If you want to go home, I’ll make sure you get there and then I’ll leave, but if you trust me, I’ll trust you. And we can both make it through this night together.”

Felicity was scared. She couldn’t help it, she’d be an idiot not to be sacred. But she didn’t feel that spark of adrenaline beating through her veins when this man spoke to her. She didn’t know why that was, but her instinct had never steered her wrong before.

“Where is this place?” she asked, gripping her purse tightly in her hands.

“The Merlyn Mansion,” he said causing Felicity to blink in surprise. “My name is John Diggle and I work for the Queens. They’re spending the night at the Merlyn residence with about twenty other people, plus security and staff. They have for as many years as I’ve worked for them and it’s always been safe.”

The Merlyn Mansion. It would be heavily secured and completely locked down the way John said it would. And the Queen family was pretty anti-Purge, from what Felicity knew. Moira Queen was currently running for mayor, one of her campaign promises being community safe houses for anyone who didn’t want to participate in the Purge. She was getting a lot of flack for it, but Felicity was thinking of voting for her just on that issue alone.

The man, John Diggle, threw her a smirk and added, “They always have great food at these things if that’s a selling point.”

“Can we go to my place first?” she asked. “I’d rather stay there unless…”

John nodded, knowing what she meant. She’d rather stay there unless she _couldn’t_ stay there. “Of course,” he replied.

Felicity wasn’t sure if she’d live to regret the decision, but she nodded, following after him as he gestured for her to hop into the passenger seat of his car.

“It’s just two blocks up on Ventura,” she said, motioning for him to drive straight.

“Here,” he said gently as he pulled away from the curb. Felicity glanced down to see him holding out a handkerchief. At her look he smiled kindly. “You have some blood—” he gestured to his face “—from when I shot him. There’s a bottle of water in the glovebox if you want to use that.”

Felicity nodded, taking the handkerchief and tugging open the glove box to find a brand new bottle of spring water.

“Thank you,” she said softly, tipping some out onto the cloth and then flipping down the visor to see the blood splattered across the right side of her face. “I’m Felicity, by the way. Felicity Smoak.”

“John Diggle,” he said again, this time holding out a hand for her to shake. She only hesitated a small second before she did. “But my friends call me Dig.”

“Thank you, Dig,” she said, leaning back in the soft leather seat.

It only took three minutes to get to her place. It took her less than three seconds to see that getting into her place was going to be a problem.

There were about fifteen people gathered in a loose circle at the end of the block. In the middle, two men stood facing each other, waving swords around like they were play fighting. Only the swords were real and the damage they caused was too.

One of the men drew back his sword, the blade slicing through the air and into his competitor’s throat like it was butter. Blood splattered the face and chest of the winner and he lifted his sword again, this time in victory as the crowed cheered. Felicity glanced away and found Dig with a hard look in his eyes as he looked past her towards the gruesome scene.

“You’re not staying there,” he said, turning back to the road ahead and driving right past her block. “No way.”

Felicity couldn’t bring herself to disagree. Not after what she’d just seen. It felt surreal, even with all the horrors she’d seen during past Purges. Men and women she’d spoken to before, cutting each other down in the street as if it were a game. How was she supposed to go home knowing _that_ was happening outside? How was she supposed to distract herself from the fear that she could be next?

This would be the first Purge night she spent completely alone. She’d spent past Purges with her mom or her ex in college, but this year she had no one to trust in this new city of unfamiliar faces. And then this man, who’d been nothing but kind to her, comes out of nowhere, saves her life and offers her sanctuary… All she had at her place were two steel bars on the door and a panel covering the windows. She had cameras set up, a few technological deterrents and a hidey hole she’d created in her closet just in case, but no real security. And definitely no one to help her should the Fight Club decide they wanted more of a challenge.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to stare out the window as they drove. Men and women, in and out of masks, firing weapons at each other. Bloody corpses littering the streets. She’d seen it all at one point or another. She wished she could stop seeing it.

“Don’t worry,” Dig said, tapping on the windshield as they drove past a group of men firing machine guns at parked cars. “Bullet proof glass. We’re safe in here. We’ll be even safer soon enough, I promise.”

She nodded again, leaning back and closing her eyes. Sometimes, on Purge night, decisions had to be made. She just hoped she’d made the right one tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

The ride to the Merlyn Mansion wasn’t as long as she’d thought it would be. Only about twenty minutes, but then again there wasn’t a whole lot of traffic tonight. They hadn’t been bothered by purgers while leaving the city, and they’d seen even less out here in the middle of nowhere. There were no neighbors for miles.

When they pulled to the gate a young man in a small—bullet proof, according to Dig—building scanned Dig’s credentials through the glass even though he seemed to know him by name. He asked who she was and wanted her full name, but she wasn’t on the list and the man didn’t like that.

“I can’t let just anyone in, Mr. Diggle. You know how important it is,” the guard said, shaking his head.

“So you want me to leave her out here? Alone? For any one of these psychos to stumble across?”

The guard made a pained face at that, taking a moment to think it over. He glanced past Dig, taking a good look at Felicity, and she tried to look as small and unintimidating as possible.

“Fine,” he sighed after a few moments. “But it’s on you when I get fired for breaking protocol.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Dig assured the man with a kind smile. “She’s a guest of the Queens. It’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” the guard said, opening the wrought iron gate and gesturing for them to go ahead.

The house was set back into the property and Felicity had the odd experience of seeing it grow larger the closer they got. She’d thought it’d looked big from the gate, but once they parked in the roundabout drive near the front door, she had to admit she’d never seen a house so big.

Or so covered in steel reinforced security panels. It was like the place was Fort Knox or something.

Felicity took a deep breath, considering, one last time, whether she was making the right choice locking herself in a house like this with strangers. But she was already here, already so far from any other form of safety. What choice did she have?

Dig led her past the main entrance and around the corner towards the garage. A small steel door came into view and Dig knocked three times, then glanced up into a camera to the right of it.

“Who’s the girl?” a voice asked, startling Felicity.

“A guest of the Queens. I just picked her up.”

“The Queens didn’t add any plus ones to the list.”

“Oliver called me a little while ago, asked me to pick up a friend of his. Ask him. Tell him we’re waiting at the door and you won’t let us in,” Dig said tauntingly.

There was a long pause and, for a moment, Felicity thought the man was going to let them rot out there, but then, “He’s on his way down to confirm.”

Dig sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, turning his back to the door and scanning the area around them.

“Is that a good thing?” Felicity whispered. “Will he let me in?”

Dig nodded, focusing on the wooded area beyond the driveway with sharp eyes. “Oliver’s a good guy and he’s got good instincts. He’ll do the right thing.”

Felicity bit her lip, tugging her sweater tighter around her. She wasn’t so sure about Dig’s assessment of Oliver Queen. She’d heard all of the gossip about him and she thought she had a good grasp on what kind of person he was. Not the kind to go purging, but also not the type to be too concerned with other people. But, she reminded herself, Dig knew Oliver, and not just through gossip websites. He actually knew the guy and he looked pretty confident he’d help her out.

Two minutes later the door opened and a man with a mustache—the owner of the voice, Felicity assumed—looked out at them. A second man, with cropped hair and bright blue eyes, leaned over his shoulder and smiled.

“Hey, guys!” he greeted them. “Come on in.”

Dig gestured for Felicity to go first and Oliver Queen quickly pulled her into a hug. Which was startling for many reasons, the biggest being it was Purge night and touching of any kind made Felicity flinchy. She tried not to be too obvious when she pulled away, forcing a smile onto her face as she looked up at him.

Crinkly blue eyes greeted her along with that disarming smile and.… yeah. Even during the Purge, she still found Oliver startlingly attractive. Maybe even more so than in all of those photos the paparazzi liked to take of him. Not that she looked at them… That much.

“Ma’am,” the guard interrupted her thoughts, holding out a hand expectantly. “I’m going to have to go through your purse.”

“Oh,” Felicity said, pulling the strap from her shoulder. Normally she wouldn’t care for that type of thing, but tonight she actually appreciated this man’s diligence. They were taking care not to allow weapons in. That was a good sign.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Oliver said while the guard rifled through her belongings. He reached out, placing his hand on her elbow. “I’m sure you had a safe trip?”

His tone was sincere, even if his words were too familiar to be true, and Felicity got that same feeling she’d had with Diggle earlier. The sense that she would probably trust this man on any other night. Still, she hoped that, once they weren’t being scrutinized by the Merlyn’s hawk eyed security detail, he would ease up on the touching. Felicity just wasn’t in the mood tonight, now matter how attractive he was.

“There was a minor inconvenience,” Dig said quietly, “but it was taken care of. We’re both fine.”

“Good.” Oliver nodded, dropping his hands to his sides—much to Felicity’s relief—and gesturing for them to follow once the guard handed Felicity back her purse. Silently, she let him lead her out through another set of steel doors and into a well lit and well-furnished hallway. “I’m Oliver Queen,” he introduced himself as soon as they were safely away from prying eyes.

“Felicity Smoak.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You have a little blood…” He gestured to the collar of her sweater and she glanced down to see the dark stain on her chest from when Dig shot a man for her.

“Oh! Yeah. It’s not mine.” Felicity said, tamping down on the hysterical laughter that wanted to bubble up at the thought of someone else’s blood on her and exactly what that meant. “I tried to get it off in the car, but blood stains don’t come out that easily.”

Oliver watched her for a moment, staring at her, which probably should have made her uncomfortable, but there was nothing malicious in his gaze, just curiosity. “Okay,” he said, continuing their path deeper into the mansion. “I’m sure we can find you another sweater if you want one. I’ll ask my sister.”

“Oh! You don’t have to!” Felicity said, hurrying to keep up as he made his way through the hall.

“You shouldn’t have to walk around with blood on you all night,” he said, glancing back at her. Then the hall opened up into a foyer and Felicity's appreciation for Oliver's concern melted into wonder as she looked around the room.

The foyer was large and bustling with people. Waiters walked to and fro, trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres balanced in their hands. Starling City’s elite gathered in small groups, chatting and looking more like they were at a charity gala than locked down in a safe house while the rest of the country went crazy and tried to kill each other.

Talk about the rich being disconnected. Felicity had just been attacked half an hour ago by a man in a clown mask wielding a machete and these people were sipping champagne and eating canapés. Part of her was sick thinking about it, the other part was just thankful to be here now. Not that she looked like she should be here.

Some of the women in attendance were wearing gowns. Real life, sparkling princess gowns. Most people seemed to be dressed a little more casually, but even so, Felicity knew her nineteen dollar jeans just weren’t going to cut it in this crowd.

“Thea,” Oliver called, grabbing the attention of a small pixie-like woman who was speaking to a group of young men near a… Was that a Picasso? Taking leave of her friends, Thea floated over to them with a smile. “This is Felicity,” Oliver said, “she’s a friend. She could use a new sweater.”

Thea’s sharp green eyes settled on the bloody collar of Felicity’s cardigan and she sucked in a breath. “Are you alright?” she asked, voice full of concern. Concern was a strange emotion to hear from a stranger on Purge night and Felicity couldn’t help but appreciate it.

“I’m fine.” Felicity nodded. “It’s not mine. Dig…” She trailed off, but Oliver finished for her.

“Mr. Diggle helped her out, so she’s going to be staying here with us tonight. Do you have anything clean she could put on?”

Thea nodded at her brother, then smiled gently at Felicity. “Of course. I think I brought a hoodie with me. I’ll go get it.”

She walked off towards the staircase and Felicity realized, belatedly, that she hadn’t thanked the girl. She’d make sure to do that when Thea returned.

“Do you want something to eat?” Oliver asked, still watching her carefully.

“Not at the moment, thank you.” Felicity was sure if she tried to eat anything right now she’d just end up puking all over the beautiful Italian marble floor. The image of the men killing each other in the street outside her apartment… She wasn’t sure she’d ever want to eat again.

“Okay,” Oliver said. “Don’t hesitate to grab something if you change your mind. And you can ask me or Dig or Thea if you need anything else.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what reason these people could possibly have. They didn’t know her. And they were obviously under no obligation to help her. Even Diggle didn’t have to help her earlier. They were just doing it because… what? The goodness of their hearts?

Oliver blinked once, twice, then shrugged. “John wanted you here.” He said it like it was obvious. “He trusts you, I trust him. Besides, no one deserves to be on their own tonight.” He sighed. “If I could, I’d bring the whole city back to my house to wait it out.”

Dig shook his head sadly. “They’d all just wind up killing each other in the lap of luxury instead of in the gutter.”

Oliver nodded in reluctant agreement. “At least you’re safe,” he said softly, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Both of you.” Then he turned to fully speak to Dig. “Did everything go as planned? I was worried when you didn’t get back before 7 p.m.”

Dig sighed. “There was an issue with the security system. I locked it up manually. No one should be able to get in, but I wouldn’t say it’s secure. Not until we get the computers up and running.”

“We knew it was a long shot,” Oliver said, but seemed disappointed. He glanced at Felicity, like he’d just realized she wasn’t in on the conversation. “My nightclub, Verdant,” he explained. “We were…” He paused, shooting a look at Dig. “We were trying to make sure any damage would be minimal this year.” 

Felicity nodded. Verdant was located in the middle of the Glades. Not only had Oliver spent a fortune renovating one of his family’s old steel factories to turn it into the city’s hottest nightclub, but Felicity was sure the Purge insurance on a business like that in the Glades was astronomical. Not that he couldn’t afford it, but… If anyone decided to burn down Verdant tonight because their security system wasn’t working he’d be out of business for at least a year. It made sense why Dig was in the Glades trying to secure his boss’s business, though she found it odd that Oliver had waited until so last minute to make sure everything was working. Not that she could judge. She’d also been out in the Glades tonight because she’d procrastinated on getting her security functioning at one hundred percent.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Oliver said to Dig, clapping the man on the shoulder.

“Thanks, man. I’m glad that I stumbled on to Felicity when I did.” Dig smiled down at her, bumping her shoulder lightly with his. “Made a new friend.”

Felicity tried to smile back. She hoped it wasn’t as shaky as it felt.

“Why don’t we go sit down?” Oliver suggested a moment later, letting Felicity know her poker face needed work.

“You don’t have to entertain me all night,” she said.

“I don’t want you to have to feel out of place on top of everything else you must be feeling right now,” he said gently. “Besides, I guarantee that you’re more interesting than most of the people here.”

Before Felicity could respond to his teasing, Thea’s voice rang out across the foyer and she turned to see the girl skipping down the stairs. “Hey, Felicity. I found this,” she said, holding up a gray hoodie for inspection. It had Starling Prep written across the front in big block letters.

“Thank you, it’s perfect,” she said, slipping out of her cardigan. A chill ran down her spine, the mansion colder now that she was only wearing a thin camisole.

“Here let me,” Oliver said, reaching out to take her soiled sweater.

She slipped the hoodie over her head, pulling it down past her waist. Thea might have been thinner, but she clearly like her hoodies a little baggy, which Felicity appreciated at the moment. It was like slipping into a warm hug. She was now even more underdressed for this crowd, but Thea and Oliver weren’t quite as dressed up as the others—Oliver in jeans and a blue button down and Thea wearing a patterned blouse and black slacks—which kept her from feeling too self-conscious.

“Can you see that this gets laundered?” Oliver said, and Felicity looked up to see him speaking to one of the waiters.

“No, you don’t have to—”

“Fel-ic-i-ty,” Oliver drawled, stopping her protest before she could start. “It’s fine. Really.”

“I don’t mind, miss,” the waiter said, but of course he did. Who tells their employer no, especially on Purge night? “It’s good to keep busy tonight.”

Felicity couldn’t argue with that. She’d planned on programming late into the night, hoping to keep her mind off of all of the horrible things going on outside.

“Thank you,” she offered and the waiter nodded, folding her cardigan under the arm that wasn’t holding the tray of empty champagne glasses.

“Dinner is being served in the ballroom,” an older woman in a sleek black dress announced near a set of double doors. She gestured to two men dressed in suits who pulled open the doors and the crowd began to make their way inside.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” Oliver asked again. “It’s probably good for you to at least try to eat something.”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Thea added quickly. “Still, come sit with us. We can get to know each other.”

The younger girl smiled and, even though Felicity’s stomach turned at the thought of food, she couldn’t help but nod.

“Great! Come on, they serve all sorts of food so there should be something you can at least pick at to make my brother happy.” Thea tugged Felicity into the room, Oliver a step behind.

But someone was missing.

She glanced back at Dig to find him standing stationary beside the back wall of the ballroom. “You’re not coming?” she asked, surprised how much comfort she’d been getting just from his presence.

“Security,” Dig explained. “But don’t worry. I’ll be right here, keeping an eye out.” He winked. “I’m sure Thea and Oliver can keep you company for awhile.”

Felicity tried not to look as unhappy about that idea as she felt. She was pretty sure Oliver and Thea wouldn’t hurt a fly, but still. Dig had saved her life… Though, she supposed, that Oliver had saved her life too in a way by vouching for her, a complete stranger that he’d never met before. Oliver had put this entire gathering at risk by doing so, including his family, but he’d done it anyway because he trusted Dig’s judgment. That said a lot about him. Or maybe all it said was that he was too trusting. Felicity shook off her thoughts and smiled at Dig before following after Thea into the ballroom.

Once they found their table, Oliver pulled a chair out for her and then Thea, before taking a seat beside them. There was an older, grizzled looking gentleman already seated at the table, a sour look on his face. He was balding, but he’d shaved his head so it didn’t look sloppy.

“Detective Lance.” Oliver nodded in the man’s direction.

“Queen,” Lance replied tersely. He seemed irritated, but Felicity got the distinct impression that Oliver hadn’t caused this mood. He looked like he’d been ticked off long before Oliver sat down at the table.

“He hates the Purge,” Thea whispered as two others joined their table. “His daughter, Sara, was killed a few years back. He just… today isn’t a good day.”

Felicity nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. Today was not a good day. For anyone. Except crazy psychopaths who enjoyed murdering and maiming people.

“And who is your friend, Thea?” one of the newcomers asked, a huge grin splitting his face. He was handsome, young, and Felicity recognized him immediately.

Tommy Merlyn. Oliver’s partner in crime, according to the paparazzi.

“This is Felicity,” Thea said. “Felicity, this is Tommy Merlyn and his girlfriend Laurel Lance.”

Tommy nodded, happy at the new acquaintance. The woman nodded as well, the barest of smiles pulling at her lips. That smile might have made Felicity feel unwelcome if Thea hadn’t introduced the woman as Laurel Lance. She assumed that the detective was her father, which meant tonight was hard for her as well. A reminder that she’d lost her sister to the madness.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” she said.

“Thea, sweetheart, I don’t think I know your friend.”

Felicity spun around in time to see Moira Queen gliding gracefully towards the table. Oliver stood, pulling out her chair and helping her into her seat.

“This is Felicity,” Oliver said, before taking his seat. “I invited her to spend the night with us.”

Moira’s gaze narrowed on the front of Felicity’s hoodie. “You go to Starling Prep, dear?”

Felicity blinked in surprise. “Oh, no!” she laughed and the sound was strange in her own ears. Too high pitched. “No, I borrowed this from Thea, because my sweater was… dirty.”

Something flashed in Moira’s eyes at Felicity’s tone, a sad understanding, and the Queen matriarch nodded.

Swallowing, Felicity tried to think of something to fill the uncomfortable silence that had descended on their small table. Anything that wasn’t the death and destruction ravaging their city as they sat there. “I work at Queen Consolidated,” she finally settled on. “In the IT department.”

Moira’s brow rose in interest, but it was Oliver that spoke.

“You do?” he asked, leaning around Thea to look at her.

“Yeah, for about a year now. Almost.”

“Where’s Dad?” Thea interrupted, leaning forward herself to ask her mother.

“He was speaking with Malcolm,” Moira said, picking up her napkin and expertly placing it on her lap as the waiters came around to serve soup and a salad. “I’m sure he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

The soup smelled good—a simple minestrone—but Felicity still wasn’t sure she could keep it down. Instead she picked a cucumber out of her salad and started with that.

“Welcome, friends!”

Everyone’s head snapped up to see Malcolm Merlyn standing at the front of the ballroom. She hadn’t noticed him standing there, but she hadn’t really been looking closely. She’d only seen him once before, on the cover of Forbes magazine, but she couldn’t mistake him. Malcolm Merlyn was handsome. He looked a lot like his son Tommy actually, but there was something too keen in his eyes. He was kind enough to allow all of these people into his house during the Purge, so he wasn’t all bad, but… Felicity was glad she was sitting at the Queen’s table and not near Malcolm himself.

“We’re gathered here tonight to wait out the annual Purge,” he said, a slick grin on his face, “but we’re going to do things a little differently this year.”

A low murmur broke through the crowd, who’d all but forgotten their soups and salads in favor of the man before them. Felicity felt a shiver run up her spine at the hint of glee in Malcolm’s voice. She might have felt sick at the thought of these people living it up while people died outside, but she hadn’t been afraid of them. Not until Malcolm scanned the crowd with those too keen eyes, landing on the Queen table. Specifically Moira Queen.

“Tonight, for the first time since we put this event together, we shall Purge ourselves of our hatred and this city of the scum that dwells within it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUNNNNN
> 
> So Malcolm's evil... as always. Who's shocked? And hey! Nobody died this chapter.
> 
> Next chapter will be up Wednesday.


	3. Chapter 3

“Tonight, for the first time since we put this event together, we shall Purge ourselves of our hatred and this city of the scum that dwells in it,” Malcolm announced to the room.

For a moment there was nothing but silence, then the murmur became one of ascent. A few people even began to clap.

Felicity felt like she was really going to throw up now. She wanted to run, to hide, but she was in the middle of the lion’s den. A hand fell on her arm and for a moment she panicked, thinking this was it. She’d mistakenly trusted these people and now she was going to wind up as some sort of sick sacrifice for them. Then she realized it was Thea’s hand, gripping her forearm tightly as she looked on in horror. In fact, the entirety of their table looked as if the rug had just been pulled out from under them. Even Tommy.

One quick glance at Moira Queen was enough to know she wasn’t in on this change of plans. She looked stricken, but quickly composed herself. The woman must have had a spine made of steel the way she straightened up in her seat and made direct eye contact with Malcolm. The man was still staring at her, almost willing her to say something.

“We’ve brought in a few sacrifices,“ Malcolm went on. “Men from the Glades. The type that go around killing people whenever they want, not even waiting for the annual Purge. The type that make this city unsafe for the rest of us.”

Malcolm gestured to a security guard who said something into his earwig, then a man in a suit rolled a cart out to the front of the room. It was the kind you’d use to move boxes, but, instead of boxes, there was a man strapped to it. He was wearing a hockey jersey and his hair was cropped close to his scalp. His brown eyes were blazing and Felicity thought the phrase _if looks could kill_ had never been more fitting. Behind him came another young man with dark hair and a round face. After him another and another. The last was a boy, maybe a little older than Thea. He was wearing a red hoodie and he looked almost as pissed off as the first man. He was attractive, with a jaw that could cut glass, and Felicity thought he’d look more at home on the pages of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue than in the Glades.

They were all strapped down and gagged, but it didn’t stop a single one of them from making their anger known. Their anger, however, didn’t cause Malcolm or the others to look remorseful. In fact, Malcolm looked delighted by it.

“These are the kinds of men who killed my wife, Rebecca. The type of men who raped Frank Chen’s daughter and left her paralyzed!” Malcolm paced the front of the room while another man rolled out a smaller cart, this one low and draped with a sheet. “These are the men that have put hatred into good men’s souls and it is finally time we purge that hatred!”

There was a cheer from the gathered elite, a sickening applause for Malcolm’s words.

Moira was still staring back, watching the man she’d obviously trusted—enough to gather in his home on the most dangerous night of the year—turn on her.

“Mom, where’s Dad?” Thea asked again, only this time she sounded terrified.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m sure he’s fine.” But the woman didn’t look like she believed that. She turned her head to the side, looking towards the back of the ballroom discreetly. Felicity followed her gaze in time to see John Diggle slip out of the room, just as the security guards closed the doors.

Did Dig just leave them? Why would he bring her here only to make her witness a massacre? She couldn’t understand and she didn’t have time to figure it out. Thea’s gasp drew her attention back to the front of the room. There, Malcolm was wheeling out one final sacrifice. A good looking older man with graying hair and a beard. A man who was very familiar to Felicity. In fact, she’d even spoken to him once when he was having trouble with his computer.

Robert Queen was strapped to the same type of cart the other sacrifices were tied to. A thin trail of blood ran from his hairline to his cheek, as if someone had hit him over the head with something heavy, but his eyes were clear. They didn’t contain the same anger that the man in the hockey jersey or the boy in the hoodie showed. In fact, he wasn’t looking at Malcolm at all. Instead he was looking towards his family’s table, at his wife and children.

A sob escaped Thea and Moira reached across Felicity to take the girl’s hand. “Don’t look, baby. Whatever happens, don’t look.”

Fury radiated off of Oliver and he looked like he was about to leap up to try and save his father from the fate Malcolm had in store for him, but Moira shut that idea down with one swift look. “Get Thea out, Oliver. No matter what.”

Then the woman stood, looking every inch the regal Queen she was in her sparkling golden gown, and walked towards Malcolm and her husband.

“I don’t know where this is coming from, Malcolm,” she said as she approached, “but this is not what we do. We agreed.”

“You agreed,” Malcolm protested. “And for a time we followed, but that time is over now, Moira. Every year we lose more to these thugs.” He swung his arm to encompass all of the sacrifices. “Our families are taken from us, our businesses vandalized. And you and your family want to give them safe houses! Want to help them hide away like the rats they are on the one night we can fight back. And you want to use our tax money to do it. Well, it’s time we put our foot down. It’s time we do as the New Founding Fathers intended and purge our streets and the hatred in our souls. Purge and purify, as they say.”

Shouts of “purge and purify” rang through the ballroom as the elite echoed Malcolm.

The man smiled, snakelike, and pulled the sheet off the small cart. He reached for something, holding it up for the room to see. A deadly looking knife glittered under the crystal chandeliers.

“And we’ll start with the family of the woman who means to protect our enemy. Guards!”

Before Felicity could process his words or their meaning, a large hand wrapped around her bicep, pulling her from her chair. Oliver had already pulled Thea up and started pushing them through the crowd. None of Starling City’s elite stood to stop them, but Malcolm’s guards closed in before they could make their way to the ballroom doors.

“Malcolm, stop this!” Moira demanded sounding distressed, but Felicity couldn’t spare a glance back at her. She was too busy wondering how she’d managed to get herself caught up in this mess and how they’d ever get out of it.

“Dad, no!” Tommy yelled.

There was a commotion and Oliver let go of her for a split second while he turned to see what had happened. Felicity followed his lead, her mouth falling open in shock when she saw Malcolm plunge the knife down towards Robert at the same time Tommy lunged at him. The younger Merlyn managed to block the blade, but not without injury. His father cut through his shoulder, knocking him off balance and to the parquet tile floor.

“Tommy!” Laurel cried, pushing through the crowd to get to her boyfriend, her father following close behind.

“Idiot!” Malcolm sneered down at his son. “You are a constant disappointment. I should let them sacrifice you too.”

Thea gasped as Malcolm bore down on his son. “No! Tommy!”

The sound of Thea’s voice must have kick started Oliver’s fight or flight response, because he spun back to the guards, striking out at one of them. He caught the man in the jaw, knocking him back a step, but the others closed in. Oliver pushed Thea behind him, then took a swing at the next guard.

One of Merlyn’s guests jostled Felicity’s shoulder in his rush to get out of the way of the fight. She noticed him stumble in his attempt to escape his seat and did the only thing she could think of. She pushed him. The man lurched to the left, colliding with two of the security guards. They fell in a tumble of tangled limbs, desperately trying to push and kick their way out, giving Oliver, Felicity and Thea the break they needed to get to the doors.

Which were locked.

“Dammit!” Oliver hissed, shaking the handles wildly in an attempt to get them out. He turned, forcing Felicity and Thea back against the door, placing himself in front of them.

Looking over Oliver’s shoulder, Felicity could just make out Laurel crouched next to Tommy in the front of the room. She was trying to drag him off to the side, away from the craziness. Her father was close by, engaged in his own tussle with security. A shot went off, the guard falling to the ground, and then Detective Lance aimed a gun in the air and fired again.

“Everyone freeze!” Lance shouted.

Surprisingly, everyone did. Even the guards backed off as Lance leveled his gun at Malcolm Merlyn.

“Let these people go, Malcolm,” Lance said.

“There’s no need for you, Detective. Murder is legal for the next eleven hours. It’s our right as Americans,” Malcolm said, grabbing another knife off the cart, and his audience crowed in agreement.

The people in this room were worse than the purgers, as far as Felicity was concerned. They cried out in favor of the Purge, but didn’t want blood on their hands. They wanted to sit, cozy in their seats, and watch the destruction from the sidelines. They were comfortable watching as Malcolm slaughtered a group of strangers and friends alike, but not a single one stepped in to help. Though that was an advantage for Felicity and her new friends, so she wasn’t going to complain.

“You’re right,” Lance said, pushing closer, his gun still trained on Malcolm. “It is.”

Two things happened at once. Malcolm raised his knife high in the air above Robert’s chest and a security guard tackled Lance just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet lodged itself harmlessly in the wall. The same could not be said for the knife sticking out of Robert Queen’s chest.

“No!”

Felicity wasn’t sure if she’d screamed the word herself—though her throat felt raw—but Oliver and Thea had both cried variations. Moira lunged forward, crying out and taking her husband’s face in her hands. Laurel screamed, as well, as another shot went off and the commotion around her father stilled.

After, there was silence. Not a soul in attendance spoke as Moira cried over her husband. Felicity couldn’t see how bad it was, but suspected the worst.

Malcolm motioned to one of the guards, who pulled Moira back from Robert and, from the way Oliver stiffened when he finally caught sight of his father, she was glad she couldn’t see the man’s face clearly. She would never be able to forget the sight of the knife sticking out of his chest for the rest of her life. _All seven more minutes of it_ , she thought hysterically.

“On your knees,” Malcolm ordered and the guard pushed Moira to the ground.

“No!” This time it was just Oliver who cried out. He rushed forward, only to be intercepted by the guards Felicity had tripped earlier. They each grabbed an arm, holding him in place. Or trying to, anyway. Oliver somehow still managed a few steps forward, struggling for all he was worth to get to his mother.

Malcolm caught sight of him and laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, Oliver. Your mother’s safe. For now. It’s you and your sister you should be worried about.”

“No, Malcolm, no! Please!” Moira begged. Felicity couldn’t see her, but she could hear the tears in her voice. “Kill me. I’m the one you want, not them. Please not my children.”

“I’ve always cared about your family, Moira,” Malcolm said. “But you’ve lived free of loss for too long and now you want to hide away the ones the Purge is meant to eliminate. It’s one step from taking away our civil liberties.”

The crowd murmured in agreement.

“I just want to help the innocent,” Moira argued. “Families, children. The ones who choose not to Purge.”

“My wife chose not to Purge,” Malcolm roared. “She chose to help those thugs in that damn clinic, yet they still killed her.”

“I’m sorry Rebecca died, Malcolm, but don’t you dare put this on her!” Moira said, the anger clear in her voice. “She wanted to help the people in the Glades. She believed in the safe houses as much as my family does!”

“And look what it got her!” Malcolm roared.

“You’ll all sit by and watch as my family is killed? Why?” Moira demanded, ignoring Malcolm’s outburst, but the crowd didn’t respond. Everyone was silent except for Thea, who was sniffling beside Felicity. “Is it hate? Is it greed? Or do you think we should be punished the way Malcolm does?”

“This isn’t a punishment, Moira. It’s a lesson.”

“You think murdering my husband is going to teach me to think like you?” And Felicity imagined her turning a fierce glare at the people gathered, people who were supposed to be her friends that now wanted her family dead.

“You need to understand why the Purge is necessary,” Malcolm said simply. “We all agreed. It’s time you learn the kind of horror this city has bestowed upon the rest of us.” His previous anger had been replaced by a cold calculation that scared Felicity more than his knives did. He motioned to his security again. “Bring Oliver and Thea Queen forward.”

Suddenly, Oliver was struggling again as the guards tried to drag him forward through the crowd. A third guard, one of the ones Oliver had punched, moved towards Thea and Felicity stepped between them. The guard rolled his eyes, reaching to push her out of the way of the young heiress, but Felicity wasn’t having it. Thea had been kind to her, no way was she just going to hand her over to these psychos. Felicity cocked her fist back and swung at the man, catching him in the jaw. Pain burst in her knuckles, but she didn’t stop. She pulled back, ready to swing again.

BAM. BAM.

The gunshots startled her and she dropped her fist. The guard she’d been fighting looked equally startled. Then the ballroom doors burst open and John Diggle entered, firing off a round into the man trying to take Thea and two more into the men holding Oliver.

“Let’s go!” Dig yelled, gesturing Thea and Felicity into the foyer. Two dead bodies lay at his feet and Felicity realized the first two gunshots had been Dig killing the security guards on the door. “Oliver, now!”

Oliver hesitated for a moment, glancing past the crowd, and oncoming security, to where his mother was on her knees before their crazed host.

“Ollie, please!” Thea cried, and Oliver’s decision was made for him. He lurched backwards just as another guard lunged for him. Diggle fired another round, laying the man flat out on the ground, blood pooling from his shoulder.

Oliver ran out into foyer, Diggle slamming the doors behind him.

“My mother is in there,” Oliver told Dig. “And Tommy, Laurel…”

“I know,’ Dig nodded. “I saw it on the cameras in the security office.”

“You left,” Felicity accused. “When Malcolm announced he was going to purge, I saw you walk out!”

“Moira gave me a signal. She wanted me to get you two—” Dig pointed at Oliver and Thea ”—out of there. And I couldn’t do that without a plan.”

“So then what’s the plan?” Oliver asked, his trust in John Diggle unshaken.

“I cleared a path through the security office,” he said and it took Felicity a moment to realize what he meant by that. “We go out that way and get to the car. Now!”

“What about Mom?” Thea cried. “We can’t leave her, Ollie, we can’t. He’ll kill her!”

“No,” Oliver said. “He want’s to kill us in front of her. So we need to go with Dig and let him protect us.”

It was of little comfort to the girl. “He killed Dad, Ollie… He…”

Oliver’s face crumpled and he looked heartbroken, but he took Thea by shoulders, spinning her towards the hallway that led to the security office. “I know, Speedy. I’m sorry, but we need to go. Mom told me to get you out and that’s what I’m doing.”

Felicity followed after them as they ran down the hallway, coming to a stop in front of the steel doors of the security office. Dig pulled a keycard from his pocket, swiping it through a scanner near the door, unlocking it, then waving the others through. Once inside Felicity could see the blood stains littering the desk and walls, but she didn’t look for the bodies, instead focusing on Dig as he scanned the security feeds.

“There,’ Oliver said, pointing toward the camera in the top right of the screen. “Tommy and Laurel made it out.”

Sure enough, Tommy and Laurel were hobbling down a hallway, three men following after them. Felicity watched as Tommy gestured with his hand and one of the men—the boy in the red hoodie, Felicity believed. How did he get away?—punched a code into a keypad on the wall.

“They must have gotten out through a backdoor. Everything outside looks clear. We need to go.” Dig moved to the outside door, swiping his—obviously stolen—keycard again and that door popped open as well. “Stay close and keep low.”

Felicity did as told, following Thea out into the driveway. Dig moved quickly towards the driver’s side of the town car, sliding in and starting the ignition. Oliver threw open the passenger’s side door and waved them forward.

“Both of you up front,” he said, and neither girl felt the need to ask for an explanation, silently piling into the passenger seat. Oliver quickly crawled into the back, pulling the door closed behind him and sealing them into the bulletproof vehicle. “Dig, circle around the side. I know where Tommy and Laurel are coming out.”

Dig followed Oliver’s instructions, speeding across the driveway and around the side of the house. To get there he had to drive half on a walkway and half in the garden that ran alongside of it, destroying the landscaping. Not that anyone was concerned with the state of Malcolm Merlyn’s landscaping at this point. 

A steel reinforced door swung open twenty feet ahead and Tommy, Laurel and three other men spilled out onto the walkway. Dig pulled the wheel, sliding to a stop, while Oliver threw open the back door.

“Get in! Let’s go!”

Laurel and the kid in the red hoodie helped Tommy inside, before climbing into the back themselves. The man in the hockey jersey—another one of the sacrifices—pushed the third man forward.

“Get in if you want, but I’m going in the opposite direction of these freak shows.” With that, he ran off towards the trees littering the side of the property.

“Rene, wait up!” the other guy called, but Rene was already gone. The third man hesitated for a moment, before turning back to the car.

“Come on!” Oliver called again, but it was too late.

Two armed guards came out through the side door, firing at the car. Blood burst from the man’s chest and he fell to his knees, but the guards kept firing past him at the town car. Oliver wrenched the door closed, barely missing being shot when a bullet pinged off the glass half a second later.

Dig was already moving, pulling the car around. He maneuvered past a few more guards that had taken up position in the driveway and headed right for the gate. Felicity saw the nice guard who’d let her in glance at the speeding town car in confusion as they hurtled towards him.

“Hold on,” Dig cautioned, hitting the gas harder as they approached the wrought iron gate.

Hitting a metal gate at full speed didn’t hurt as much as Felicity had imagined it would. Probably because the specialized town car had been built to take a hit. When they collided, the gate crunched around either side of the car, but they barely slowed as they sped out onto the street. The only evidence they’d impacted anything at all was Thea’s bony elbow connecting with her ribs and that was only because they were both squashed into the front seat without a seatbelt.

“Take us home, Diggle,” Oliver said, as soon as they were off the Merlyn property.

“No,” a gritty voice piped up from the backseat. Tommy. “My dad… He’ll be expecting that. He’s not stupid and he planned this, Oliver. I’m sure he already has his people waiting there just in case.“ Tommy sighed. "If my father didn’t have such a flare for the dramatic we might not have made it out at all.”

“Where else can we go?” Laurel asked, voice shaky, and Felicity turned to see her sitting with Tommy leaning on her shoulder. The kid with the red hoodie was jammed against the window and Oliver was on Tommy’s other side.

“Verdant,” Oliver said after a moment.

“I thought the security wasn’t working?” Felicity asked, glancing between him and Dig.

“It isn’t,” Dig agreed, meeting Oliver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, “but Malcolm won’t expect it. He doesn’t know about the bunker.”

“Bunker?” Felicity parroted.

Oliver leaned forward, meeting her eyes. “It was supposed to be the first attempt at a community bunker,” he explained. “I had it installed there because no one would question why I was upgrading security on my club. We’d hoped… my mom, she wanted…“ he sighed. "It doesn’t matter. We didn’t get it finished in time.”

“That’s why Dig was in the Glades,” she said, understanding.

“Yeah,” Oliver said, running a hand over his face. “We wanted it done by tonight. We had a list of families we were going to invite, but… It didn’t work out.”

Felicity twisted next to Thea until she could reach a hand back to touch his arm. “That’s incredible, Oliver.”

Oliver waved her off. “Just get us to the city, Dig. Malcolm’s men are probably already headed our way.”

Felicity pushed away the silly little tinge of hurt she felt at his brush off and spun to check the side mirror, looking for any sign of headlights. There was nothing. For now. This car was bulletproof, but that would only keep them safe for so long if they were caught out here on the open road, without any way to defend themselves.

“Are we sure they won’t be waiting at Verdant?” Laurel asked quietly.

“No, but, either way, it will be harder for them to find us in the city. We’re sitting ducks out here,” Oliver admitted, echoing her thoughts.

Felicity kept one eye on the mirror as they drove on silently, the other watching the dark trees whip past the headlights.

When she and Dig had driven down this road the first time it had been towards what she’d hoped would be salvation. She’d been wrong. They both had. Now this road was a death trap and the city she’d run from was their only chance of survival.

“We’re gonna die,” an unfamiliar voice muttered and Felicity turned to see the boy in the red hoodie shaking his head. She hated the sentiment, but she couldn’t bring herself to disagree.

A ball of lead settled in her stomach when she realized that no one else did either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should* be up on Sunday. I'm going to try really hard to make that happen, but I still need to do some work on it.
> 
> P.S. Who thinks Oliver should stick an arrow up Malcolm's you know what?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I skipped posting Sunday. I had to overhaul this chapter because the story just keeps getting longer. There *should be* two more chapters left after this. Anyway, hope you enjoy it :)

Three men hung from street lamps.

That was the first thing they noticed when they entered the city. Bodies strung up under the orange hue of the tall lampposts. They were too high up to see if anything worse had been done to them, but the fact that someone—multiple someones—took the time to hang their bodies was more than enough to turn Felicity’s stomach.

“What the hell is wrong with people?” Thea cried, burying her face in Felicity’s shoulder as they drove past.

“I don’t know.” Felicity wrapped her arm around the younger girl, cradling her head. “I don’t know.”

Felicity didn’t want to say that she’d seen worse, not only tonight, but before too. She’d managed to miss the worst of it in Boston, hiding out in her dorm room with Cooper, but Las Vegas? The deaths that took place in the casinos alone tested Felicity’s faith in humanity. That people could not only murder on a whim, but also gamble on it like it was a sport…

“We’ll be there soon, Speedy,” Oliver promised from the backseat. He slipped a hand between the seat and the door to pat his sister’s shoulder, but his fingers grazed Felicity’s arm instead. Even through her borrowed hoodie a tingle shot through her from the gentle touch and Oliver pulled back quickly, awkwardly averting his gaze to look out the window.

Felicity tried really hard not to think about why Oliver was acting so awkward as Diggle turned the town car onto a side street and drove them into the Glades. It was hard though. Felicity knew she was attracted to Oliver—had been ever since she’d moved to Starling and saw his face splashed across every grocery store tabloid—and, at the moment, concentrating on her stupid celebrity crush was much more pleasant than worrying about being out in the city during the Purge.

There weren’t many people around as they made their way through the Glades. For awhile they only saw the occasional body littering the streets. It was almost ominously quiet, so of course Felicity couldn’t help but feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I don’t like this,” Laurel said quietly, watching through the windshield as they passed a flaming wreck that Felicity believed used to be a Kia.

“No one likes this,” the boy in the red hoodie said, eyeing the same wreck. “But this is how it is in the Glades. You fight or you die. Not like in your big fancy mansions where you strap people down—”

“Hey!” Oliver barked, leaning around Tommy and Laurel to see the kid. “None of us had anything to do with that. We’re here too!”

“Because this year they wanted to kill _you_ ,” the boy argued. “That doesn’t mean you’ve never purged.”

“We haven’t,” Thea said, practically pushing Felicity onto the console between the seats in order to glare at the kid. “None of us have ever done anything like that. You’re the stranger here. For all we know you could be exactly what Malcolm said you are.”

Felicity couldn’t help but think that Thea was wrong. Most of these people might have known each other their whole lives, but Felicity was also a stranger in this group. She just happened to be smaller, blonder and more female than the boy in the hoodie. But she knew from experience that just because someone looked harmless, it didn’t mean they were. And just because someone looked big and imposing—Dig and Oliver were perfect examples—it didn’t mean they wouldn’t go out of their way for a stranger. That knowledge was the only thing keeping her from calling it quits on the whole human race.

“I’ve never hurt anyone,” the boy said, eyes blazing as he glared back at Thea. “I was going to my friend Sin’s to make sure she was set for the night when…” He shook his head, jaw clenching. “I don’t know, everything went black. It wasn’t even 7 p.m. yet! That nut job kidnapped me before the Purge even started. You know what? Just let me out right here. I’d rather—”

Dig slammed on the brakes so quickly it jostled everyone in their seats. Felicity braced herself against the dashboard, glaring at Diggle.

“You didn’t need to stop that quickly,” she said, trying to adjust herself without elbowing Thea.

“Everyone shut up,” Dig said, eyes wide and on the road in front of them.

Oliver’s head popped into the space between the front seats, right next to Felicity. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked, staring at whatever had caught Dig’s attention.

Felicity glanced out the windshield, then blinked in astonishment. There in the road, maybe a hundred feet ahead, was a man—at least Felicity assumed it was a man—dressed in black tactical gear, including a helmet and face mask. And on his shoulder was a gun, a very large gun.

“Is that a rocket launcher? Because that looks like a rocket launcher,” Felicity asked, turning to the guys beside her. “Not that I’ve ever seen a rocket launcher in real life, but that looks like—”

“Felicity,” Dig said, throwing the car into reverse. “That’s a rocket launcher.”

He hit the gas pedal and the car drifted from side to side for a moment while the tires spun, but then Dig was maneuvering them back the way they’d come. In reverse. Felicity couldn’t help but be impressed even while anxiously watching the man with the rocket launcher, wondering when he was going to use it to blow them sky high.

The man stood there for a few moments, watching as they put nowhere near enough distance between them, before he straightened the weapon on his shoulder and aimed.

“Shit! Dig!” Oliver hissed, pointing toward the guy.

“I know,” Dig grunted, wrenching the wheel. “Everyone out!” he yelled, as the car came to a screeching stop in the middle of the road.

Thea and Dig both pushed open their doors at the same time and Felicity scrambled out, grabbing Thea’s hand and pulling her towards a narrow alley between two buildings. There was a whiz in the air behind her and then the loudest noise Felicity had ever heard. Her back felt hot and the entire alley lit up around her. Thea screamed, crouching against the brick wall and pulling Felicity with her, holding on tightly as the explosion drowned out everything else for countless seconds.

The kid in the hoodie stumbled to the ground beside them, mouthing something that looked like an expletive, before scrambling back to his feet.

As the shock faded, the sound came back and Felicity could hear an awful hissing noise. Metal hit pavement with a creaking thud and Felicity finally turned to see Oliver with his arm wrapped around Tommy at the mouth of the alley. Diggle and Laurel were standing beside him, looking back at a burning heap of metal. Metal that used to be their town car.

Felicity extricated herself from Thea, walking up beside Dig as she watched the car burn in a weird sort of awe.

“My purse was in there,” she muttered, staring at the burning hunk of metal and feeling strangely disconnected. “My keys, my wallet… my phone.”

“Better than you being in there,” Dig said, peering around the brick wall to see if crazy rocket launcher guy was coming after them. When he turned back he didn’t seem very worried, so Felicity figured the guy with the rocket launcher wasn’t interested in hunting them down on foot. Maybe he just liked to blow things up?

“He wasn’t supposed to have that!” Thea said and everyone turned to see her still sitting against the wall. “All weapons above class 4 are illegal during the Purge," she recited. "That’s the rules! He can’t have a rocket launcher.”

“Oh, really?” Red Hoodie said dryly. “Well, let’s just go back and tell him that. I’m sure he’ll apologize.”

Thea narrowed her eyes at him and clambered to her feet. “I’d ask if you have a name, but calling you Assface in my head makes me feel better so…”

Oliver looked annoyed at their bickering, but just put his hand on his sister’s shoulder.

“We’re on the street. We’re going to run into all types of things tonight and we need to keep our heads, so no fighting, alright?” Once his sister nodded, he turned to the boy. “I’m sorry, I should have asked in the car, but what’s your name?”

“Roy,” the kid said, pursing his lips and giving a slight nod. “Roy Harper.”

“Roy, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Oliver Queen.”

“Yeah, I know. Your name is in all the papers.”

“Oh, so he knows how to read then,” Thea muttered and Roy glared, but some of the annoyance was lost when his eyes dipped in a way that meant he was clearly checking the girl out. Luckily for Roy neither of the Queens seemed to notice.

“Roy, I understand if you’d like to leave, but we could use your help,” Oliver said. “And once we get to Verdant we’ll be safe.”

“You _think_ ,” Roy added with a raised brow.

Oliver inhaled slowly, the fire crackling loudly behind him. “It’s safe. The computer system isn’t working, but the locks—”

“I can handle the computers,” Felicity interjected, earning Oliver’s attention. She shrugged a little at his surprised look. “MIT. Class of ‘09. I can get the computers working as long as there’s power.”

Oliver opened his mouth and Felicity was dying to know what he’d say—she’d heard it all before, the doubt people usually had in her abilities until she _showed_ them, and usually even after that—but Dig cut in before she could hear his reaction.

“Good,” he said, cupping Felicity’s shoulder with his big palm. She was surprised that she didn’t flinch at the touch, but being touched by any of this group seemed the least of her worries now. “We need to move. Roy, you know the Glades the best. Which route is likely to be safest?”

Roy looked surprised by the question at first, before considering. “We could… If we take 9th down to Union and cut through the side streets that should bring us out near Verdant. It’ll take longer, but we should be able to avoid the worst of it.”

“Okay,” Dig said, nodding. He pulled out the gun that had been stowed somewhere behind his back, checking the… whatever it was you checked on guns to make sure it was ready to shoot bad guys. Then he looked back at each of them. “Head on a swivel. You follow my lead and we’ll make it to Verdant just fine.”

That plan worked for about three blocks.

To be fair, everyone was doing as Dig asked. Felicity was keeping an eye out for purgers or just anything suspicious as they crept down the sidewalk. Thea and Roy seemed to be doing the same beside her. Dig led the way, with Laurel and Tommy beside him. Oliver brought up the rear, his sharp blue eyes shifting from the windows to the rooftops, then down to the alleys and nooks between buildings. For a supposed layabout party boy, Oliver Queen didn’t look as out of place on the streets as he should have, and something about that struck Felicity as strange.

Roy had just pointed out a small throughway between buildings, when a group of men and women stumbled out of a liquor store less the twenty feet from them. The group was dressed in masks and costumes—it looked liked they’d raided a Party Fair—and everyone of them was armed to the teeth. One girl, in a white masquerade mask and a pink tulle tutu, had a bedazzled assault rifle. Another had a sword, no doubt to go with her samurai costume and makeup. One man was dressed like Robin Hood, complete with green tights and a bow and arrow.

Felicity wasn’t sure whether to roll her eyes at the inanity or to fear for her life because these people were clearly batshit crazy.

“Well, well,” said one of the men, his arm wrapped around Little Miss Tutu. He wasn’t dressed as ludicrously as the others. Instead of a Halloween costume, he wore a bulletproof vest over a dark shirt with a ski mask to hide his face. “What do we have here?”

His words slurred together ever so slightly and Felicity realized he was drunk. In fact, Little Miss Tutu had a bottle of whiskey dangling from one hand. Felicity wasn’t sure if a bunch of drunk crazies was better or worse than a bunch of sober crazies, but she had a feeling she was about to find out.

Diggle lifted his gun with one hand, the other reaching out to keep Laurel and Tommy behind him. Felicity saw Thea reach out to grab Roy’s hand at the same time a hand closed around her forearm, tugging her back, then Oliver was standing in front of her, pushing Thea and Roy behind him too.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Dig said slowly.

“It’s funny,” said Little Miss Tutu, dropping the whiskey bottle and lowering her sparkling assault rifle from her shoulder, “because that’s exactly what we’re looking for.”

She moved as if to spray them with bullets and Felicity froze, unable to even close her eyes and brace for death, but only one shot went off. The girl in the mask jerked back, her face contorting in shock, then pain, as she fell to the ground beside her leaking whiskey bottle.

That kicked Felicity into gear and she pulled Thea back towards a mailbox on the sidewalk and pushed the girl down behind it. “Stay here,” she ordered, peeking out around it as the fight started in earnest.

Dig got off a few more shots, taking out the most well armed of the group, before the man in the ski mask engaged him hand to hand. Laurel jumped into the fray as well, wrestling the sword from the samurai chick before another scene like outside Felicity’s building could take place. Thankfully.

A man with a Nixon mask aimed a shotgun at Dig—who was wrestling the man with the bulletproof vest to the ground—but Oliver tackled him just in time. Thea screamed when the blast of the shotgun went off, the bullets peppering the store's security gate with a sound like thunder. Felicity peeked around the side of the mailbox again, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Oliver get to his feet and point the shotgun at the man writhing on the sidewalk.

Tommy, still lethargic from loss of blood, reached down and picked up the bedazzled gun, aiming it at the rest of the group. Most of them backed off, having smaller—or just plain stupid—weapons, such as the guy who thought a sledgehammer was a good choice for purging.

Roy grabbed another gun—a pistol—from the fallen purgers and, his hand shaking ever so slightly, pointed it at Robin Hood. “Put the arrow down,” he demanded when the man aimed his bow towards Laurel. The man hesitated for a moment until Oliver swung the shotgun in his direction.

“Okay, okay,” he said, lowering the bow and dropping the arrow to the sidewalk with a clink.

“The bow too,” Oliver said, eyeing the man. “And the quiver. Put it on the ground.”

“Fine,” he said, dropping the bow and then shrugging off the bag of arrows strapped to his back. “Whatever you want. Just let me go.”

“All of you, get the hell out of here!” Dig commanded, getting to his feet. The man he’d been struggling with, the one in the bulletproof vest, was lying on the ground, his eyes vacant and unfocused as he stared up at the night sky. After a quick look at their fallen, the drunk purgers decided better of prolonging the fight and took off in the opposite direction.

“Thea!” Oliver called after they were gone. “Felicity, are you guys alright?”

“We’re fine,” she answered, using the mailbox to pull herself to her feet. Thea jumped up behind her, already running towards her brother.

“Ollie! Are you okay?” She scanned her brother for any sign of injuries before wrapping her arms around his waist. “I was so scared.”

“I’m fine, Speedy. We’re all okay,” he said, looking over everyone in the group for confirmation.

“It figures,” Tommy said, taking a step back to lean against the brick wall of the liquor store.

“What figures?” Laurel asked, moving beside him and tossing the sword she’d appropriated to the sidewalk with a clang.

Tommy carefully shifted the assault rifle in his hands, wincing slightly when the movement pulled at his wound. “It figures I’d get a sparkly gun when you all got cool weapons.”

Laurel raised her eyebrows and Felicity looked around at the others. Oliver was holding a shotgun—and wow something about that image was really working for her—Dig had two pistols now and Roy was holding another, though he looked like he was afraid it might bite him.

“You’re really going to complain because your gun is too girly?” Laurel asked, sounding equal parts annoyed and amused.

“No, I just…” Tommy looked down and shrugged before wincing again, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Give me that,” Thea said, gently patting Tommy’s arm before reaching for the gun. “You’re just going to hurt yourself if you don’t.”

“Good idea,” he said, handing the assault rifle over. "It matches your outfit better anyway."

Thea glared back good-naturedly, swinging the gun over her shoulder.

“Here,” Oliver said, passing the shotgun to Laurel. “I know you know how to use one of these.”

“Yeah.” Laurel clicked something on the gun, before sliding the hand grip forward, loading the shotgun the way Felicity had seen people do in movies. It looked as cool in real life as she’d always imagined it would.

“You want the bow, really?” Dig asked, pulling Felicity’s attention away from Laurel and focusing it back on Oliver who was swinging the strap of the quiver over his head. The leather cut across his chest, showcasing his pectoral muscles in a way that Felicity found distracting.

Ignoring Dig’s question, Oliver reached back down, plucking up the bow and arrow off the sidewalk and nocking the arrow easily, before releasing it into a telephone pole maybe fifteen feet away. The arrowhead lodged itself into the wood and Oliver marched over, tugging it free before slipping it back into the quiver.

“I took lessons as a kid.” Oliver shrugged when he caught Felicity’s gaping stare.

“I remember that.” Tommy laughed, pushing himself off the wall and turning to Felicity. “I made fun of him for it, until I realized that he was only doing it because the instructor’s daughter was cute.”

Felicity blinked, mouth still agape, glancing at Oliver who rolled his eyes.

“To be fair, I was thirteen. And it paid off,” Oliver added, turning to Tommy. “I got a date with Shado and now I’m also a pretty good shot with a bow.”

Dig stepping up beside her snatched her attention away from the guy who looked more at ease out here on the streets joking with his friend then he had all night, even when he’d thought they were safely tucked away inside a mansion.

“Here,” Dig said, holding out his extra gun for Felicity, but she just shook her head.

“I’m pretty sure if we get into trouble—more trouble—that will be better off with you.”

Dig raised a brow in indifference at her refusal, pushing the gun into her hands. “Safety’s here,” he said, pointing to a little switch on the side of the gun. “Aim and pull the trigger. Just try not to hit any of us.”

“Ha,” she deadpanned, narrowing her eyes as she checked to make sure the safety was on before lowering the gun to her side. She didn’t like guns. She knew it was a good idea to have one at the moment, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to pull the trigger if it came down to it. She’d rather not be put in the position of finding out.

“Let’s go,” Dig said, leading the group to the narrow alley Roy had pointed out before their confrontation. Oliver fell back as the others followed Dig into the tight space.

“Thanks,” he whispered, leaning in close to Felicity’s ear as she scooted past into the alley. She twisted her neck to look back at him questioningly. “For protecting my sister before,” he added. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Felicity said, looking forward again as she followed Roy out onto another street. This block was _thankfully_ empty, but a few blocks down there was a crowd of people doing God knows what. They were certainly being loud about whatever it was though.

Everyone was silent until they made it across the street and onto the next block without drawing  unwanted attention to themselves. No one wanted another fight. They’d gotten lucky last time—drunk crazies were easier to handle then sober crazies—but there was no guarantee it would happen again.

“I do have to thank you,” Oliver said a couple of minutes later as they progressed single file, pressing close the wall of a townhouse. The lights were on in the windows above them, the security bars casting a strange pattern against the sidewalk. “Thea… She might be all I have left. So thank you.”

The emotion in his voice startled her and Felicity turned to face him. He stumbled to a stop, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop himself from knocking into her and that tingle from before came back full force. She swallowed it down, trying to focus on comforting him instead.

“I’m so sorry about your parents, Oliver.”

“I know,” he said, gently brushing the hand on her shoulder down her arm, until he traced over the back of her hand, setting her nerve endings on fire. “Let’s not talk about it, okay? I can’t right now or…” He swallowed hard, looking over her shoulder at the others, then cupped her elbow to turn her around. “We need to keep up.”

He was right. Dig and the others were already half a block ahead, turning onto another street. Felicity crept along, staying close to the wall and taking comfort in Oliver’s hand on her elbow, until a loud shattering sound pulled her up short. A fire erupted to her left, spreading out across the street in a wall of flames. Oliver bumped into her back, his arm moving from her elbow to wrap around her waist, pulling her back against him and turning her into the brick wall, covering her body with his.

A short staccato burst of gunfire pervaded the sudden chaos, causing Felicity to flinch and Oliver to hold her tighter. She heard a shout and then Thea screamed, “Ollie!” which had Oliver pulling back so fast Felicity almost stumbled. She tried to peer through the crackling flames to see what was happening, but could barely make out anything on the other side. Oliver, practically being a giant, didn’t seem to have the same issue.

“Dig, get her out of here!” he shouted, loudly to be heard over the roaring flames. “We’ll meet you!”

He turned around, already reaching back for Felicity, when another burst of gunfire cut through the air. Gravel flew up in chunks as bullets struck the road at Oliver’s feet. Felicity took two startled steps back, feeling the panic rise up in her chest, nearly suffocating her.

They were going to die. Oliver was going to die. And then she would follow soon after, hopefully by the mercy of a bullet to the head.

She remembered the gun Dig had given her and lifted it up, searching for the safety, but before she could find it a large hand wrapped around her shoulder, startling her. She stumbled and, instead of pulling her close the way Oliver had, the hand pushed. Hard.

Felicity careened forward, off balance, barely having time to see the brick wall rushing towards her face, let alone block it. All she heard was a crunch before everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever. This story just took a totally different direction on me then it was supposed to but I had to follow it. It just took me a while to figure out where it was leading me. This chapter isn’t my favorite, but the chapter it’s leading to might be, so I think it was worth it. We’ll see.

There was a pressure circling her ankle and a scraping against her back. That was the first thing she noticed as the world blinked back into existence.

The second thing she noticed was how much her head hurt, but even through the pain, her brain told her there were more important things to focus on. What those things were was the question. She remembered being in the Glades with Oliver Queen and then… Fire. Gunshots.

Oliver!

She tried to call his name, but all that came out was a groan.

“Just two? We were expecting a group.”

A man’s voice pulled her back to reality.

“Yeah, but this one here is famous,” another man said. There was a scuffling sound and then a grunt. “Don’t you recognize him? I guess we did rough him up a little. It’s the Queen kid.”

Oliver. This time when she groaned it actually sounded like his name.

“She’s waking up.”

The pressure on her foot released and she felt her lower body hit the ground. Hard. She would have complained, but her head pounded too much to form words. Her vision was speckled with tiny black circles which led her to believe she had a concussion.

“Hey!”

That was Oliver. So he was alright.

She blinked again, clearing her vision some—and thanked god that her glasses remained on her face. The night sky above was partially blocked out by the rusty corrugated metal of a warehouse, but at least she could see it.

“You got the money or not, man?” the second guy said.

There was a pause and Felicity leaned up slightly, enough to see a man in camo and a black vest nod his head. Another man beside him handed a wad of cash to the thug who’d been dragging her and Felicity felt cold seep into her bones. Someone was… selling her?

“You’ve got your money, now go. We need ten more by the end of the night,” the man said.

“Be back in a hour.” Then the thug and a couple of others who Felicity hadn’t noticed walked away, leaving her and Oliver with the camo goons.

“Get up,” the leader said, gesturing for her to stand. She turned in time to see Oliver reach out with cuffed hands to try to help her off her back, but the goons didn’t like that based on the machine guns suddenly pointed in Oliver’s direction. “Get yourself up. We’ll take care of your girlfriend.”

Some detached part of Felicity felt a tingle of embarrassment shoot up her neck at being mistaken for Oliver Queen’s girlfriend. Mostly though she was just concerned with the rough hands wrapping around her shoulders and dragging her to her feet.

“Let go!” she groaned, trying to wrench her arms out of his grasp. His grip tightened and Felicity felt the terror taking over as he pushed her through a door and into the warehouse. “Oliver! Oliver!”

“Felicity!” She heard Oliver shout and turned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of him. What she saw was two goons throw him into the wall and press the barrel of a machine gun to his head.

“No!” she cried, but the steel grip on her arm never let up, dragging her further into the dark warehouse.

The only light was near a set of steel doors. A man in a suit waited at attention beside them, a machine gun strung over his shoulder. When they got closer the man pushed a button on the wall beside him and a moment later a green light flashed above the doors. The man pushed them open, allowing Felicity’s goon to drag her inside.

“Stop!” She dug her feet in, trying to tug her arm away, but after a moment he’d apparently had enough. A quick shove sent her to her knees and pain shot through her.

She was just about done with people shoving her today!

She tried to get up, but a strong hand on her shoulder pinned her to the floor.

“You stay quiet and don’t move and I won’t have to shoot your boyfriend, got it?”

The inappropriate embarrassment didn’t hit her this time, just relief that Oliver was alright. It was confirmed a second later when Oliver hit the floor beside her with a grunt.

Two more men with suits—armed with pistols this time—stood beside them, one on each side.

“If you speak, you die. If you move, you die. Do you understand?” That was the lead goon again. He walked around them, looking them both in the eyes.

Felicity assumed it was a rhetorical question given the no speaking rule and the goon definitely didn’t wait for any answer. He walked through another door on the right, the crackle of a radio following him out of the room. Instead of worrying about the men with guns threatening their lives, she took a moment to glance around. This room was dark too, but she could see just a sliver of light coming from under the… wall in front of them? That wasn’t right.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a feminine voice echoed over a sound system. “Are we ready to welcome another set of purger’s to the arena?”

Arena?

“What is this? What are you doing?” She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she couldn’t help speaking. Not when an announcer was welcoming people to a purging arena. She’d heard about those, about the victims sold to the highest bidder—

“Shh,” Oliver hissed, just as one of the men grabbed the back of her neck, pressing her head forward and painfully jamming a pistol against the base of her skull.

“Are you deaf? Move or speak and I’ll put a bullet through your brain,” he said, then let go of her and took a quick step back. She gasped, sucking in a mouthful of air, trying to ebb the panic.

She could see him and the other guards standing in the shadows, guns drawn and at their sides, but then a curtain—oh, it wasn’t a wall, it was a curtain!—parted and a bluish light blinded her momentarily. She ducked her head, blinking rapidly to clear the dots from behind her eyes.

Soft piano music filled her ears, along with applause when the parting curtains revealed them to a crowd. There were dozens of them, elegantly dressed, the soft candlelight of the room hiding their faces. The spotlight shining on her making extra sure she couldn’t see them.

“It’s just been brought to my attention that this is a special lot and I’m very excited to see them auctioned tonight.”

That voice was so familiar. Felicity looked up, blinking past the spotlight to see a man and woman ten feet away from them on stage. The woman held a microphone in one hand, smiling at the crowd like she wasn’t talking about auctioning off people like animals.

Oh, yeah. Felicity recognized her. Dark, perfectly coiffed hair framing her face. A wine colored lipstick contrasting nicely against her pale complexion and showing off that charming, politician smile that always looked so fake to Felicity.

Ruve Adams, political rival of Moira Queen, and standing right beside her was her husband, Damien Darhk, owner of H.I.V.E., the largest Purge insurance and security company on the west coast.

Felicity was barely surprised that they were auctioning people off. They lived for the Purge, and made a living off of it. It was a key issue in this year’s mayoral race and Ruve was always showing up on signs around the city, her stiff smile superimposed over an American flag, the words _Do Your Part to Keep Starling City Pure. Vote Ruve!_ across the top. Felicity always had the urge to draw a fake mustache on her whenever she saw one.

“I know he looks a little worse for the wear,” Ruve went on with that same creepy smile, “but our first sacrifice is none other than Oliver Queen himself.”

The crowd burst into murmurs, everyone clearly interested in seeing a billionaire sold to the highest bidder.

“As heir to one of Starling’s most elite families,” her husband stepped in, equally creepy smile in place, “we’re upping the starting price to five hundred thousand dollars.”

As interested as everyone seemed to be in... _buying_ Oliver, not many people were rushing to actually bid half a million dollars on him. In fact, only one woman raised her hand.

“Isabel Rochev,” Damien announced with a knowing smirk. “Looking for a little good old fashioned revenge, if I’m not mistaken? The sins of the father are laid upon the son… or something like that. Either way, I’m sure you’re planning to give us a show?”

Before the woman, Isabel, could respond an Australian accent cut through the room.

“One million dollars,” the man said, his deep voice demanding attention. She noticed Oliver stiffen beside her.

“Mr. Wilson,” Damien said on a laugh, “I’ve been waiting all evening to see what you can do with that blade of yours. I suppose I won’t have to wait much longer, unless Ms. Rochev has something to say about it.” He glanced back at Isabel, but the woman was silent. ”And Mr. Wilson takes the Queen.”

There was a smattering of laughter mixed in with applause, before Ruve spoke up again. “Our second sacrifice may not be as big of a draw, but she’s an attractive young woman, who will no doubt make for an excellent purge. The bidding starts at one hundred thousand.”

There was no bidding war over her. It was all very simple. The same Isabel woman as before raised her hand, claiming Felicity as her consolation prize for the evening, then the curtains closed again and the guards were tugging her and Oliver to their feet.

“No!” Felicity screamed. “No, please don’t do this.”

“Felicity, stop,” Oliver gritted out as the guards roughly dragged them through a hallway to the left. Another set of double doors opened as they approached and then they were being pushed to their knees once more. This time the guards left them there, locking the doors behind them.

“Oliver,” she whimpered in the darkness. She could barely make him out beside her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, scooting closer until she could see his face. He reached out and gently cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Your head…” He brushed his thumb gently over a sore spot near her hairline. “I was worried. You were out of it the whole ride here.”

“I’m okay, I think.” She wanted to lean into him, tuck herself into his arms and let him protect her from everything, but she couldn’t. He couldn’t. They were locked in a dark room and about to be slaughtered. If she wanted to live, they needed to figure out how to protect themselves. In the dark. Without weapons.

Right. Easy.

“Felicity, I’m sorry,” Oliver whispered, palm still cupping her cheek. “Slade and Isabel… They hate me, not you.”

“Why?” she asked, looking up at him. “Why do they hate you?”

“You remember I said I took archery lessons because I had a crush on a girl? Shado? Well in college we met Slade. He had a thing for Shado, but she wasn’t interested. Shado and I had history, we ended up hooking up one night, Slade found out.”

“So he just paid a million dollars to kill you because of a girl?” Felicity asked incredulously. “That’s insane.”

“I knew how he felt. I was a shitty friend.”

“Yeah, but that’s nothing compared to wanting to kill a person just because you're jealous!” Felicity shook her head. “And Isabel? You hook up with her too?”

Felicity watched Oliver’s face scrunch up in disgust. “Walked in on her with my father, actually.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh.”

Ew.

“She was an intern at Queen Consolidated. After I caught them, he fired her. She’s hated me and my family ever since.”

“And now she’s going to kill me,” Felicity said, before shifting to her butt and pulling her knees to her chest.

Suddenly the lights at the other end of the room flickered on. Felicity turned to look around, before they went back out. It was a big room, with low walls and obstacles scattered throughout. Another pair of double doors opened on the far wall and two masked figures dressed in tactical gear and carrying machine guns entered. Felicity assumed the large figure was Slade and the much smaller, but equally threatening one was Isabel. They were wearing matching face masks, orange on one side and black on the other. The hilt of a sword stuck up above Slade’s shoulder and it sent shivers down Felicity’s spine.

The two barely glanced around the room before taking each other’s hands and bowing their heads together in prayer. Felicity could hear their words clearly, even from the other side of the room.

“Blessed be the New Founding Fathers for letting us purge and cleanse our souls. Blessed be America.”

Then the room plunged into total darkness again.

“Shit,” Oliver hissed. He grabbed Felicity by the bicep and pulled her to a crouching position, maneuvering them behind one of the nearby low walls. “Okay, okay…” He looked around, but there was nothing to see. “Okay, you stay right here. Right here,” he emphasized. “I’m gonna see if I can get one of those guns.”

“Oliver!” She reached out, trying to grab his arm, ready to tell him no, they needed a better plan than that, but he was already gone, disappeared into the dark abyss.

Shit! What was she going to do? She wanted to do as Oliver said, sit here and wait for him to handle things, trust him with her life, but… this was her _life_. And his! She couldn’t sit here and wait, but she wasn’t exactly equipped for this sort of thing. Give her a laptop and five minutes and she would destroy both Slade and Isabel—in a financial sense, at least—but guns and swords weren’t a part of Felicity’s skill set.

She leaned around the edge of the low wall, squinting hard in the darkness, but there was nothing to see. Instead, she held her breath, listening carefully for any sounds. There, the click of a gun readying. It was far off, but Felicity still moved back behind the wall. She was sure their hunters had some sort of night vision, otherwise what was the point of the darkness. Steadying her breathing, she moved to the other end of the wall, away from the sound she’d heard. She could just make out the outline of another wall, a little taller than the first. It wasn’t far, but the run there would leave her more exposed than she liked. She decided she’d wait to see what Oliver was going to do before she made a move. Once she heard something, anything, then she’d decide what to do.

It only took another minute or two. Felicity was leaning against her wall, stomach in knots and ears on high alert, when she heard the first sounds of a scuffle. It was much closer than she’d expected and she couldn’t tell who was involved, until a female voice called out in the darkness.

“I’m going to kill you, you little brat,” Isabel shouted angrily. “Your father loved me, but you went and ruined it all!”

Oliver didn’t say anything, in fact the sounds of fighting stopped once Isabel started shouting. She imagined Oliver had surprised her and then gone back into hiding.

“Isabel, the kid is mine!” Slade shouted from somewhere to her left. “You touch him and you’ll deal with me.”

Isabel didn’t say anything back, instead the room was utterly silent again. Felicity knew they were close now, though, and she needed to move. She just couldn’t be sure if they’d see her when she did. She took a deep breath and was just about to make a move for the other wall, when a masked figure appeared out of the darkness in front of her. She nearly screamed, but a hand came over her mouth, silencing her.

“Felicity, it’s me. It’s me.”

Oliver, she realized with a sigh of relief as he released the hand covering her mouth.

He pulled the mask off, then leaned against the wall beside her. “I stole Isabel’s mask and a knife she had on her. Here.” He pushed both items into her hands. “The mask has night vision so you’ll be able to see where they are.”

“Oliver, no, you need this more,” she said trying to give them back, but he shook his head.

“I’m going after Isabel again. She’s the easier target and if I can get her gun we might stand a chance, but I need to know you’re okay. So please, put the mask on and be careful.”

Felicity watched him, silently wishing she could see his expression better. In the dark his eyes looked soft and worried and maybe, just maybe, he glanced down at her lips, but she couldn’t be sure. She knew it was ridiculous to be thinking about kissing him at this moment, but oh god was it more pleasant than considering all the different ways they might die in a few minutes.

After a moment, she nodded, pulling the mask over her head. The whole world lit up green, Oliver’s eyes glowing like a cat’s. It was freaky and she turned away, looking around the room. She could see a figure moving around to the right. She assumed it was Isabel and silently gestured the information to Oliver.

She didn’t see Slade at first, but when she finally saw him she was grateful Oliver had come back before she moved over to the other wall. He was standing a few feet away from it, facing the direction Isabel was lurking around in. She looked at Oliver quickly, signaling him about Slade, then watched quietly as Oliver thought of a plan of attack. Even through night vision she could tell he was concentrating, listening to every sound their hunters made. She could hear Slade’s footsteps, thankfully moving away from them. She could hear Isabel’s gun scrap against a concrete wall and the woman’s annoyed hiss.

She tried to give him the knife one last time, but he refused, so she tucked it into the pocket of her hoodie. Oliver took her hand, squeezing it once, then made a break for Isabel, keeping low and ducking behind things when possible. He was so quiet Felicity couldn’t hear him at all, even though she was listening.

She peeked around the wall again, spotting Slade creeping along like a deadly jungle cat in the night, but he was moving in the other direction. Oliver was slowly sneaking up on Isabel. He disappeared behind a pillar for a moment, before reappearing on top of it. She wasn’t sure how he managed that, but she realized his intentions quickly enough when he crouched low, waiting as Isabel moved closer and closer to his position. As soon as she was close enough, Oliver sprung at her, both of them tumbling to the ground and out of Felicity’s view.

Her heart leaped in her chest as she waited, listening to the fight taking place so close, but so far from her. She’d just about forgotten about Slade when a rough hand grabbed the hood of her sweatshirt, yanking her to her feet and pulling a shocked cry from her lips.

“Stay still, girl,” he said, his voice soft in her ear. “If you cooperate, I’ll make it quick.”

That was the second time tonight someone had said that to her and, just like the first time, Felicity refused to go quietly. She threw an elbow back, cracking it against the heavy armor covering his chest. Before she could even think about how badly that had hurt or what to try next, he was dragging her out into the center of the room.

“Oliver!” he shouted, pulling her close against his chest. “I know you’re out there, kid. I have your friend. You’re going to come out or else I’m going to kill her.”

“Let her go, Slade,” Oliver shouted. But she couldn’t see him, even though she was still wearing the mask. “She has nothing to do with this.”

Slade laughed. “Even if I did, they’d never let her leave this place alive. They’d just sell her to the next highest bidder.”

Felicity knew with a sickening twist of her gut that he was right. Even if she wasn’t killed now, she would be. And on the off chance they did survive this confrontation, they’d never be allowed to leave this room. It was still too early, there was too much time left in the Purge for them to be released.

Oliver stepped out from behind a pillar, Isabel’s machine gun in hand, but Slade only laughed. Felicity felt him shift, then the mask was ripped from her face and she was blinded by darkness again. She heard the mask hit the ground and then the terrifying metallic zing of Slade’s sword being pulled from its sheath.

The cold, sharp metal pressed against the skin of her throat and her heart skipped a beat.

“Twitch and I’ll open your throat right here,” he told her lowly, his accent somehow making his threat sound even more threatening.

Felicity tried to hold in her terrified whimper and tilted her head back to take some of the pressure off her neck. She closed her eyes, picturing her mother. Her beautiful, smiling mother. How devastated would Donna be when she got the phone call in the morning, letting her know her only daughter had died in the Purge? Would any of these people even spare a second thought to her suffering? To Felicity’s?

Oliver would. She knew it somehow, deep in her bones, that if he survived this and she didn’t, he would care. And Thea and Dig, if they were still alive. She hoped they were. She hoped they wouldn’t share a similar fate.

She really hoped she and Oliver survived. She hoped he could somehow save them from this, but with his enemy’s blade against her throat it was getting really hard to stay hopeful.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity face off against Slade in the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait! I had a hard time with this chapter, but I really wanted to get back to this story. I hope you enjoy it!

Slade’s blade cut into the skin of her throat, causing another terrified whimper to escape her.

“Put the mask on, kid,” Slade said to Oliver. “I want you to be able to see it when I spill her blood on the floor.”

Felicity swallowed and even that made the sword press harder into her flesh. So fighting him off probably wasn’t going to work then, not unless she enjoyed bleeding. She stared out into the darkness, knowing Oliver was right there in front of her and he had a gun. She kept repeating it to herself, trying to hold onto hope. She really didn’t want to die tonight.

“You’re not gonna kill her, Slade,” Oliver said, voice slightly muffled. He must have put on the mask, which meant he could see her. She tried to school her features, tried to look less terrified than she felt. “You wouldn’t kill an unarmed woman.”

Something in Oliver’s voice caught her attention, but she couldn’t see him. She wished she could see him, look into his eyes…

“Drop the gun or I will,” Slade threatened. “Do it.”

And to Felicity’s surprise, Oliver did. She heard a clatter on the floor maybe ten feet ahead and her heart sank.

"You’re really doing this because of a college grudge?” Oliver asked. “You’re going to kill me because Shado didn’t want you?”

"She would have!” Slade bellowed so loudly Felicity struggled not to flinch. “If you hadn’t stolen the moment away from me! I was going to convince her we were right for each other. Soulmates. Until _you_ got in the way!”

He pushed Felicity down to her knees and a weight shifted in the pocket of her hoodie. The knife Oliver had taken from Isabel. Felicity had forgotten about it in her panic. She wasn’t unarmed after all and Oliver knew it. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to use it against the sword wielding giant of a man behind her.

"You don’t have to do this, Slade,” Oliver stated, his voice almost eerily calm.

"No! This is exactly what the Purge is for. Releasing our hatred. Our old grudges. Once I kill you,” Slade said, sounding desperate as an edge of hysteria creeped into his voice, “I’ll be able to let it go. I’ll finally be free.”

“I know what it feels like to hate,” Oliver said, and the weight of it told Felicity he was talking about Malcolm Merlyn, “but this is not the way you deal with it! You don’t kill the people you used to be friends with over a petty argument! I’m sorry for what happened with Shado. I’m sorry if I got in the way of something, but this isn’t going to solve anything. Let Felicity go. She doesn’t deserve—”

A high pitched battle cry echoed through the large space, cutting Oliver off abruptly. The sounds of a scuffle broke out and Slade shifted, his sword still at her neck. Felicity squinted hard into the darkness, trying to see what was happening, but it was no use.

The loudest sound she had ever heard went off above her head and a flash like lightning lit the room in time for Felicity to see Isabel, machine gun in hand, fall to the floor beside Oliver. Her gun clattered across the cement and Slade shifted again, pulling Felicity to her feet, sword to her throat again, but this time she gripped the knife tightly in her fist.

“That’s what happens when you don’t take care of your enemies, kid,” Slade said. “Now I’m gonna take care of mine, but first… What did you say her name was again?” A rough finger stroked against her cheek, startling her, and she gripped the knife tighter. “Felicity? What a perfect name. You took away my chance at happiness, now I’ll take yours.”

This was it, Felicity realized. He was going to kill her or she was going to kill him first. Her palm felt sweaty on the handle of the knife, but she gripped it tight and threw her arm back, blindly aiming for Slade’s neck, the place where his mask didn’t quite meet his armor. She felt the blade sink in, heard Slade’s roar of pain and felt his sword fall away from her throat. Taking the opportunity to twist away, she put as much distance as she could between herself and the madman. Suddenly the room lit up again, the gunfire deafening and Felicity was sure she was dead. That Slade had pulled his gun around from where it had been slung over his shoulder and he was killing her and Oliver. Except no bullets struck her; the pain she imagined would accompany a bullet wound never flared. Instead the gunfire ceased, the room turned dark again and she crouched low on the ground, sucking in gasping breaths while trying to figure out what had happened.

A moment later the overhead lights snapped on and Felicity saw Slade, lying on the cold cement. A pool of blood gathered around the man, growing in size by the second. Oliver stood a few feet away, Isabel’s gun in hand and pointed at Slade’s prone form.

Getting slowly to her feet, Felicity’s eyes fixed on the knife on the floor beside Slade’s head, on the blood pooling around it, and all she could think was: had she delivered the fatal wound or had it been the bullets to take him down?

But then Oliver was striding forward, grabbing the gun from the man’s hands and slinging it over his shoulder, along with Isabel’s. He bent to pick up the knife, wiping the blood off on his jeans and tucking it into his waistband. Then he turned to Felicity, his eyes running over her quickly before grabbing her by the elbow and shuffling her toward the double doors at the back of the room.

"We need to find a way out of here. They’ll be sending in their guards any second,” he said, inspecting the door for a way to get it open.

"Did I kill him?” she asked, voice shaky and breathless as she watched his profile as he studied the door. “Did I just kill a man?”

Oliver turned to her and the furrow of his brow, the sympathetic pout of his lips… it was enough.

"Oh god,” she gasped, the hysteria tightening her lungs to the point of pain. She couldn’t breathe. She needed to breathe.

"Felicity, look at me. Breathe.” He stepped closer, cupping her cheek with one hand to force her to meet his wide blue eyes. Bile rose painfully in her throat. Taking her hand in his, he brought it up to his chest and breathed deeply. Once, twice. Felicity tried to follow his lead, sucking in gulps of oxygen past the bitter lump in her throat. “There you go,” Oliver said after a moment. “You can’t fall apart on me right now, okay? Believe me, I know it’s tempting. Slade was…” He paused, closing his eyes tightly for a moment, before looking back at her, even more determined than before. “He was going to kill us and we handled it. I need you with me if we’re going to get out of here, alright?”

Allowing herself one more stuttering breath, she nodded and followed his gaze back to the steel doors. There was a security panel beside them, just like all of the other doors they’d seen in this place. A glowing green light indicated the lock was currently engaged.

"I can open it,” Felicity said, swallowing down the bitter taste in her mouth and scanning the panel. She could do this. She had to do this; she was their only hope. Pushing all thoughts of Slade—and her very possibly first homicide—aside, she ran a finger along the edge of the panel’s faceplate. “I just…” Felicity looked around, her eyes landing on Oliver. “Give me that knife.”

Oliver reached into his waistband, pulling the blade free and handing it over without any hesitation. Felicity tried really hard not to notice the smudge of blood on the blade. Jamming it into the crease between the box and panel cover, she used it as a lever to pry the box open, exposing its circuitry. Just when she was about to reach in to grab the wires she needed, the door on the other side of the room—the one they’d come through—flew open, revealing two armed guards dressed in camo. More rushed in behind them.

"Felicity!” Oliver shouted, bringing up one of the machine guns. “We need to go. Now!”

He wasn’t wrong. There were no walls or obstacles to use as cover near the doors, but if they went to hide they’d never make it out. Getting the doors open, and quickly, was their only hope.

She spun back to the box, looking for the right set of wires. She’d never seen this particular model before, but it didn’t look that sophisticated. She still needed to check all of the connections, but she was sure she could do it. Meanwhile, Oliver was laying down… suppressive fire? Was that the phrase? She was pretty sure it was. She couldn’t see them, but she imagined the guards diving behind the low retainer walls to avoid being turned into Swiss cheese.

"Felicity!” Oliver yelled again. He fired another round of bullets before the gun clicked, clearly empty. Tossing it to the side, he pulled out the other, firing in short bursts.

She ignored him, pulling a cluster of wires free. She was almost positive this was it. If she disconnected and then reconnected them, the system should reset itself, allowing her to open the door.

A spray of bullets hit the wall a few feet away and she ducked on instinct, a yelp of fear escaping her.

"Get it open!” Oliver gritted, before firing on the guards again.

"On it,” she said, the adrenaline coursing through her as she got back to her feet. Despite her shaking hands, she managed to disconnect the wires. The light on the control panel turned red briefly, indicating the system was down.

Another hail of bullets pinged off the door this time. A burning sensation sliced through her thigh, but she ignored it—and the fear coursing through her—and reconnected the wires, turning the red light green. Oliver kept shooting and Felicity reattached the front of the panel, using the keypad to tell the rebooted system to open the door. The machine gun clicked ominously just as the doors slid open revealing a well lit room covered from floor to ceiling in weapons.

"Shit!” Oliver cursed, dropping the gun.

"Let’s go!” she shouted, rushing into the room, Oliver hot on her heels. She turned back, using the panel inside the room to close the doors just as five armed guards made a mad rush for them.

Oliver grabbed her, dragging her down behind the narrow concrete wall beside the door to protect her as the guards rained bullets down on them. Somehow, through the noise, she heard him hiss a breath, but then the doors were closed and the only noise was the sound of bullets striking steel, before even that faded.

"Oliver?” she asked, pulling back enough to see his face. He was grimacing, but he was alive. His face was black and blue in a few places and she didn’t know if it was from Isabel or the thugs that brought them here. “Are you okay?”

"I’ll be fine,” he said, shifting so he could sit with his back against the wall. Gingerly lifting his arm, he inspected his shoulder. Which was covered in blood.

"Oh my god! You’re bleeding.”

Oliver looked back at her with narrowed eyes. “I don’t need to be told that.”

Felicity jumped to her feet, looking around for… something that would help. Except that, the moment she put pressure on her left leg, that sharp pain from before struck again and she cried out.

"Shit,” Oliver said, reaching for her. “You’re shot.”

"I don’t need to be told that!” she said, bracing an arm against the wall as he helped her sit.

Looking down at her leg made her want to hurl up the little bit of salad she’d been able to eat earlier, before the night went to complete hell for the second time. Her jeans were ripped and soaked through with blood.

Oliver leaned closer to get a better look at it. “It’s just a graze. You’ll be fine, but we need to wrap it to try and stop the bleeding.”

He unbuttoned his dress shirt, revealing a white t-shirt underneath. Carefully slipping it off his wounded shoulder, he reached for the knife Felicity had forgotten she was still holding. With a few quick swipes, his dress shirt was torn into two strips and he wrapped one around Felicity’s thigh, knotting it tight to keep the pressure on the wound. It hurt, but probably not as much as it hurt Oliver when he wrapped the other around his bicep, using his teeth to pull the knot tight.

He barely stopped to take a breath before he was already back on his feet, perusing the armory and all of the different weapons it held, like he hadn’t just been shot. Felicity followed his lead, using the wall to pull herself up and then gritting her teeth until the burning sensation in her leg faded, replaced by a dull sort of throb.

"Here,” he said, turning to hand her a pistol, much like the one Dig had given her. She checked to make sure the safety was in the same place he’d shown her.

Oliver found a bow hanging on the back wall and dozens of very sharp looking arrows in a display nearby. She wasn’t sure what his obsession with archery was about—I mean, wouldn’t a gun be easier?—but she did have to admit this bow was a lot nicer than the one he’d gotten from that wannabe Robin Hood earlier. It looked like it was made of carbon fiber and had some sort of pulley system on the ends. This bow definitely did not look ridiculous when he pulled back the string and experimentally notched an arrow. He released it quickly, depositing it with the rest of the arrows in a quiver he found near the case and slinging it over his good shoulder.

"We need to get out of here,” he said, turning to face the door that led out of the armory and to… well, probably more bad guys with guns, which totally didn’t make her want to go out there. Oliver seemed to sense her thoughts. “We can’t wait them out. Too many hours till dawn. I’d rather take the fight to them then let them corner us in here.”

Felicity couldn’t fault his logic, even if she was still processing possibly killing a man and being shot just a few minutes ago, so she turned to the panel near the other door and got to work. This one was easier since she knew what she was doing and soon enough the light on the panel blinked red and then green.

"You stay here and wait for my signal, alright?” Oliver said, hand already resting on the knob. “I’ll clear the area and then we’ll move out.”

"Oliver…” she whispered, feeling adrenaline mix with her nerves. Her heart was throbbing, but at least it forced the pain in her leg to the back of her mind.

He reached over quickly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m gonna get you out of here,” he promised, blue eyes sparkling intensely under the bright fluorescents.

She knew he would try, that wasn’t even a question. It didn’t exactly calm her nerves though.

"But Felicity,” he said, looking down at their joined hands before meeting her eyes. “If I’m hurt or…” He swallowed, his throat bobbing. “You close the door and do everything you can to hold them off, okay?”

Her earlier hysteria threatened to rise again, but she pushed it back down, giving him a determined nod and adjusting the gun in her free hand.

Untangling their hands, Oliver reached for the door again, swinging it open and taking a quick step back behind the wall. Just as Felicity thought, bullets started flying, but he ducked low, leaning out quickly and releasing an arrow. A moment later a guard rounded the corner, but Oliver was ready. He used his bow to strike out at the man, knocking the pistol from his hand and then landing a vicious blow to his face. The guard slumped down against the wall and Oliver peered through the door again before signaling for Felicity to follow him.

The door opened up into a wood paneled hallway with deep burgundy carpeting. Oliver hurried down it and Felicity kept close, doing her best to avoid looking at the dead man on the ground, even as Oliver bent to collect his arrow from the man’s chest. Turning left when they came to an intersection, Oliver led them to another set of doors that Felicity overrode just in time to see a group of men in camo round the corner at the end of the hall behind them.

"Shit,” Oliver said, pushing the doors shut behind them just as the bullets began to fly, pinging off the metal. “We need to keep moving. This won’t hold them very long.”

"Hang on,” she said, using her knife to pop the cover off the security panel before quickly jerking three wires loose. “This’ll slow them down a little. You know, hopefully.”

Once she was done she turned to see Oliver investigating the hallway they’d found themselves in. It was less fancy than the previous one, but Felicity took that as a good thing. With any luck they were close to an exit.

Oliver took down two more guards by surprise as they rounded the corner. As he pulled the arrow from the second body, tucking it back into his quiver, Felicity tried not to think about the blood that must be pooling at the bottom of that thing. They couldn’t afford to waste the arrows, not when the had no idea what was in store for them. He was definitely an excellent shot, though, and clearly more comfortable with the bow than with the guns he’d used before, despite his arm wound.

They kept moving until, finally, they came to a thick steel door. There was a security panel beside it and Felicity began her usual routine, the lights blinking red then green before the lock released with a click. Oliver reached out, turning the knob slowly and opening the door just enough to peek inside. Or outside, as it turned out. A chain link fence ran parallel to the warehouse, a gate letting out into an alley just feet away. There were no guards positioned outside and Felicity wondered why before deciding she didn’t care. They needed a little luck tonight and she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The sooner she got out of this horror show the better.

"Let’s go,” Oliver said, bow gripped tight in one hand while he reached back for Felicity with the other. “Most of the guards are probably still inside, but they’re not the only threat out there so…”

"Head on a swivel, right?” she said, lifting her gun and flicking the safety off.

Oliver paused, the slightest of smiles flicking up the corner of his lips. “Yeah.”

Nodding, Felicity followed him outside, gun held tightly in her palm. She watched Oliver scan the area, trying her best to do the same. After a moment, he moved to the gate, studying the padlock.

“Do you think you can climb this fence with your leg?” he asked, releasing the lock. It fell back against the chain link with an echoing rattle.

To be honest, Felicity wasn’t sure. She was handling walking pretty well, but any more pressure than that… “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I can try.”

Oliver assessed her, then turned back to their surroundings. “Give me the gun,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m gonna shoot the lock and then we’re going to run, okay? You stay as close to me as possible.”

Felicity wasn’t sure running was going to go over much better than climbing, but she handed over the gun and prepared herself to move.

The blast went off a moment later. Oliver handed her back the gun with one hand while throwing open the newly unlocked fence with the other. Then they were running and despite the ache in Felicity’s leg she kept up. Down the alley, past a dumpster and then out onto an abandoned street. At the intersection, Oliver took one look at the street sign and took her elbow, guiding her away from the warehouse and back into the residential area. There were shouts from behind them, then the pop of gunshots and Felicity tried not to think about what it felt like when hot lead ripped through flesh. Oliver darted behind a tall brick wall, yanking her with him as bullets drove into the bricks, dust and debris shooting up around them.

She watched the dust float up under the orange glow of the street lamp, listening to the shouting and the footsteps growing closer by the second. If she were being honest, Felicity would admit that she was probably in shock, so she leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Her leg was throbbing and the rest of her wasn’t feeling so hot either. More shouts echoed through the night.

"We have to lose them,” Oliver said, gesturing for her to go ahead of him. Felicity just gasped and glanced around.

A cracked cement path lead to a basketball court with weeds growing out of it on one side and a rusty playground on the other. She knew this place.

"We’re by the waterfront,” she wheezed. “We’re no where near Verdant.”

"I know,” he said, ducking low before peeking his head around the wall to see what their pursuers were doing.

"Where are we gonna go?” she asked, pushing off the wall.

"We just need to outrun them,” he said, standing up drawing his bow, then nodded for her to go ahead while he watched their backs. “Just keep going. Shoot anyone that moves.”

She did, even though her leg was protesting the decision. They couldn’t stay here though, she knew that. So she ran, limping, towards the other side of the park, gun held out in front of her in a poor imitation of John Diggle.

It took almost fifteen minutes and a lot of ducking down side streets and alleys before they were able to shake the guys in camo, but eventually Oliver declared the pursuit over. He leaned back against a boarded up storefront, his bow forgotten at his side for the moment as he caught his breath. Felicity barely stopped herself from collapsing onto the sidewalk.

"You’re still bleeding,” Oliver said and Felicity glanced down to see the makeshift bandage he’d made out of his shirt soaked through and starting to loosen.

When she looked up, Oliver was focused intently on a building on the other side of the road. The metal security gate was bent and broken near the bottom corner, pulled away from the store in a clearly successful attempt at a break in. The colorful sign above the door declared the place a convenience store.

"We need to clean your wound,” Oliver muttered and Felicity wasn’t sure he was even talking to her by the way his brow was furrowed. He looked like he was weighing his options. “There’s got to be first aid supplies in there.”

"And what if there’s already someone else in there?” she asked, shifting to stand taller, both hands closing around the pistol as she watched the store suspiciously.

Oliver kept his gaze on the store. “Then we handle it. But we need supplies and we need a break if we’re going to make it to Verdant.”

Without another word he started forward, bow held ready in front of him.

Felicity closed her eyes for a moment, sending up a silent prayer that no one was inside, then followed him to whatever awaited them in that convenience store.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and Oliver find a moment of respite in the middle of the chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left. Seriously. I swear this time, just one more chapter.

Glass crunched beneath his feet as Oliver crouched low, peeking in through the hole in the convenience store’s security gate. Someone had pried the gate back, then busted the glass out of the window beside the door.

“I don’t see anyone,” he said, peering into the darkness of the store before turning back to her. “I’m gonna make sure it’s clear. Keep an eye out. If you see anyone, duck inside.”

Felicity nodded from her spot crouched beside the building and watched as he disappeared further into the store, before turning her gaze to the street in front of her. They were near an intersection, but far enough away that she wasn’t worried about anyone on the other streets spotting her. Most of the buildings surrounding them were boarded up, though she wasn’t sure if it was in a vain attempt at protection or if they’d been abandoned long before Purge night had rolled around. This wasn’t the best neighborhood on a good day and she knew families and businesses had been fleeing the area as the crime rates spiked and angry men and women took out their hatred for the rich and powerful during times not specifically designated for criminal behavior.

If she’d followed Malcolm’s raving monologue earlier, he’d put this whole plan of his into effect because his wife had been killed here in the Glades. Strangely enough, she could understand his anger. She could understand why he might choose to purge. But what she couldn’t, for the life of her, understand was why he’d decided to take his vengeance out on the Queen family. So Moira wanted to open public shelters for families that couldn’t afford the tens of thousands of dollars it cost to Purge proof their homes? There were still plenty of people willingly out on the street, as their little adventure tonight had proven.

“Psst.”

The sound jerked her out of her thoughts and she jumped before turning to see Oliver poking his head out of the store. He waved her in and she ducked inside beside him, standing once she was clear of the window and the jagged edges of the remaining glass. The store was empty of people, but there was stuff everywhere. Food and drinks littered the floor; a magazine rack beside the door lay on its side, the glossy pages bent and ripped as if someone had trampled them.

Someone had ransacked this place. Possibly a lot of someones.

“Over here,” Oliver said, tugging on her hand until she was sitting, hidden from view, behind the counter; lottery tickets and packs of cigarettes strewn on the floor all around her.

She stretched her injured leg out before her, trying to get a good look at the wound. Despite being dark outside, the combination of moon and street lamps had allowed her to see reasonably well, but inside, with the windows barricaded and the lights off, it wasn’t an easy task.

“Stay here a second,” Oliver whispered, peeking his head above the counter quickly before taking off around it.

Felicity closed her eyes a moment, lifting a hand to her head. It still throbbed where she’d hit it when they were attacked earlier and when she pulled her hand away she was dismayed to find her fingers came away bloody. Could she still be bleeding? It felt like they’d been in the arena for hours, but really it could have only been forty-five minutes, tops. Though she had no idea how long she’d been knocked out before her captors delivered her and Oliver to the warehouse. She supposed she could ask Oliver. He’d been conscious the entire time and probably had a better grasp of the timeline. If it had been over an hour, the others might already be at Verdant by now. They’d been a lot closer before they’d been split from the group, but still a good journey from the club and any safety it provided. She leaned back against the counter, wondering how Thea and Diggle and the others were doing. If they were all alright.

Glass crunched again and then Oliver slipped back behind the counter. He crouched beside her, a small flashlight in one hand, giving off just enough light that they could see each other without giving themselves away to any passersby, and a white plastic box, the words first aid kit printed in red across the top, in the other. Two water bottles were tucked under his arm and he handed one to her, placing the other beside the rest of his loot. His eyes fell to her bloody fingers, still held out in front of her, before shooting up to her forehead. She could see the concern in his shadowed blue eyes.

“Head wounds bleed the worst,” he said, “but it’s not deep. You probably have a concussion, but you’ve been alright so far. I’m more concerned with your leg right now. Here.”

He reached into his pocket and handed her a candy bar before cracking open the first aid kit. She watched as he quickly found a roll of gauze inside, ripped a piece off and dumped a little water onto it before pressing it lightly to the bloody gash on her forehead. He wiped at it gently, making sure not to hurt her, before he turned his attention to her leg. Unwrapping the loosened bandage, he delicately peeled at the tear in her jeans to get a better look. His eyes met hers for a moment, gauging her reaction to his prying, and, even in the darkness of the vandalized store, his were intense in a way that threw her off balance. It was one thing to indulge in little daydreams of kissing someone like him, it was another to have Oliver Queen look at her like it pained him to see her in pain. So instead she glanced down at the candy he’d given her.

“I can’t eat this,” she said, holding out the Snickers bar.

“You should try,” he said, focusing on cleaning away some of the blood from around the wound. It stung, but she gritted her teeth, knowing it was necessary. “The sugar will help the shock.”

“No,” Felicity said, a strange little huff of laughter escaping her. “I mean, I can’t eat this. I’m allergic to peanuts.”

Oliver’s eyes snapped up to meet hers before he pulled away, snatching the candy bar from her hand like it might bite her. “Shit! Sorry. I didn't—”

Felicity laughed again. “It’s fine, Oliver. It can’t hurt me unless I eat it.” She paused, considering. “Or ingest it in any way. I had a boyfriend who ate a brownie with nuts in it once. He kissed me after and I nearly had to go to the hospital…”

Oliver blinked once, then tossed the Snickers over his shoulder like it had burned him. It bounced off the counter and landed on the blue tile floor with a thud. When Felicity looked back at him, Oliver was already peeking over the counter again.

“Let’s just avoid peanuts then. Um… soda. Soda’s good. Soda’s nut free. Let me just…” He leaned around the counter, then disappeared for a few moments. Felicity heard crunching and then the snick of a freezer door being opened. She turned, resting her weight on her good leg, and popped her head over the counter in time to see Oliver round one of the displays, two sodas and a bag of potato chips in hand.

“There are no nuts in chips, right?” he asked as he took his place next to Felicity, handing over one of the cans he’d grabbed.

“No, chips are fine,” she smiled, cracking the tab of the soda and taking a long pull. The carbonation burned going down, but she could already feel her nerves settling. Though that was probably just a placebo effect.

As she drank, Oliver finished cleaning her leg, doing his best to tape some gauze over the wound while fighting with her too-tight jeans. Once he was finished he washed his hands off with some water and hand sanitizer.

“That’ll have to do for now,” he said. “We have better medical supplies at Verdant, but…”

Felicity sighed, placing her soda down beside her. “But it will take us half the night to get there on foot. And that’s if we don’t get killed on the way.”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, reaching for the chips. In the stark blue light from the little flashlight, Felicity could see the blood soaking through his sleeve.

“Wait, it’s your turn,” she said, reaching for the first aid kit.

Oliver blinked, then glanced down at his arm. “It’s fine. Your leg was worse.”

“Still,” she insisted. “A bullet hit you in the arm.”

“Grazed my shoulder,” he said dismissively and she rolled her eyes.

“Let me at least clean it, tough guy.”

She waved him closer and he, reluctantly, listened. Then, following his lead, she gently peeled back the bandage and the tattered edges of his shirt sleeve to get a clear view of the wound. He was right, it wasn’t too bad. The bullet had skimmed the top of his shoulder, but there was still a lot of blood and a real bandage couldn’t hurt. Using the water and gauze she cleaned away the blood, then taped some gauze over the cut, like he had for her.

Once she was finished he pulled the bag of chips open—it was loud in the quiet of the store—and held it out to her. She grabbed a few, unceremoniously cramming them all into her mouth at once. She knew normally she’d be embarrassed about stuffing her face in front of a guy she sort of liked, but at the moment she needed the normalcy of junk food. Oliver was right behind her, grabbing a handful of chips before drinking half his soda in one gulp. She let the sugar and relative safety of the convenience store lull her into a false sense of security. She knew at any moment the world could come rushing back in again, but she needed a breather and she allowed herself to have one here with Oliver. After what had happened…

She her chest seized up again at the thought of Slade and what she had done. Closing her eyes, she tried to blink away the image of the knife sitting on concrete, crimson pooling beneath it.

“Felicity!”

She jumped, accidentally crinkling the bag of chips beside her. Wincing, she looked back at Oliver, her heart beating rapidly as she tried to focus on him.

“Easy, easy,” he said, placing a warm palm on her shoulder. “Relax. You with me?”

She sniffled and blinked back tears. “I’ve just… I never thought I’d kill anyone, you know?”

Oliver’s blue eyes turned sympathetic before his focus shifted inward. He leaned back against the counter, letting his hand drop to his lap.

“Me neither,” he whispered. “I thought I was prepared to, but… I guess I hadn’t thought through exactly what it would feel like. I don’t know which of us killed Slade. You stabbed him, but I shot him so… It feels like my first kill. And then all those guards…”

He trailed off, hanging his head and Felicity bit her lip.

“Can I… Can I ask how you learned to do all that?” She gestured vaguely with her one hand. “I mean, I know you said you took archery lessons as a kid, but that… that wasn’t just archery lessons, that was something else.”

Oliver closed his eyes and dragged in a deep breath. “I’ve been training,” he said, without opening his eyes. “With John. He was special forces and I wanted… I thought I could help. I thought I could make a difference.”

“During the Purge?” she asked, her heart rate increasing for reasons she didn’t understand.

“My friend, Sara—Laurel’s sister—she died,” he said, looking back at her.

“Thea said.” Felicity nodded.

“She died because of me.”

She gasped, despite herself, and Oliver looked away, ashamed.

“Laurel and I had been dating,” he began, “but she’d just broken up with me and I wanted to go out, do something fun. A friend told me about this party in the city…”

He leaned back, taking a deep breath to compose himself and Felicity was suddenly terrified for whatever he was about to tell her.

“Sara called at around six thirty, I think. I was already at the party, but she said Laurel was being a bitch and asked if she could come hang out with me instead. I said, ‘why not?’ because I sympathized and wasn’t really thinking. I didn’t realize she wouldn’t have enough time to get there.”

Felicity laid a hand on top of his in his lap and Oliver sniffed, still avoiding her gaze, but he turned his hand upside down and let her thread her fingers through his in silent support as his jaw ticked at the memory.

“But then she didn’t show up,” he continued, voice thick with unshed tears, “and I figured she just changed her mind. Why wouldn’t she? Going out with her sister’s very recently ex-boyfriend on Purge night was a dumb idea. I thought she just changed her mind. Then Laurel called, crying, asking if I’d heard from Sara so…” He took another deep breath and finally turned to face her, his eyes glassy in the dim light. “I went out to find her, I swear I did, but I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t know where she could be. I tried to call her, but nothing. It was a mess out there. I didn’t realize the Purge was like that… like this. I had no idea. I was such an idiot, I’m surprised I didn’t get myself killed. The next day when they… when the clean up crew found her body, I… I swore I wouldn’t just stand by and let anyone else die like that.”

“So you built a bunker,” she said. “And trained to fight so that you could save people.”

Oliver shook his head in protest, wiping at his eyes with the palms of his hands before blinking a few times.

“It wasn’t so heroic as that. I don’t know what happened to Sara.” Oliver gulped. “But if she had had somewhere to go, someone to help her, maybe… There are so many people caught up in this barbaric game year after year. If I could help even one person…”

“You did help one person,” she said quietly and he glanced up, meeting her eyes. “If Dig hadn’t been in the Glades tonight, if he hadn’t driven by at the exact right time… I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“John saved you,” he argued. “That had nothing to do with me.”

“He wouldn’t have even been out there if you hadn’t wanted to build a bunker in the first place.”

Oliver’s expression softened at that and he nodded once. Felicity held his gaze for a long moment, trying to convey just how much she respected his attempt to help people, even if it hadn’t gone the way he’d planned.

Pride, she finally realized. That was the feeling kickstarting her heart. Pride and admiration for this man who had decided to risk everything in order to help people who hadn’t been dealt as good a hand as he had. No matter what his reasons, it was admirable, what he wanted to do.

Feeling brave, she cupped his stubbled cheek in her palm and leaned in to press her lips against his. It wasn’t so much out of desire as it was to just show him she appreciated all he’d done for her tonight, all he’d tried to do for the people of this city. To be honest, she hadn’t really thought the decision through and she certainly hadn’t considered his reaction, which was how she found herself lip locked with Oliver Queen as he sat, stiff as a board, beside her.

For one split second she froze, horrified at herself—What the hell had she been thinking? Oliver Queen wasn’t her’s to kiss and he certainly didn’t want her just—but then his hand came up to tangle in her hair, his fingers gently urging her back to him, and her doubts evaporated. Or ,maybe it was just thinking in general that became difficult, because when his lips descended on hers it was with an urgency she wasn’t prepared for. She moaned as his tongue slipped into her mouth and his other hand shot to her waist to pull her closer.

Despite all the times she’d thought of kissing him tonight, the reality of it was indescribable. His lips were soft, but firm, demanding. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging until he hissed at the sting.

“Felicity,” he sighed against her lips and she smiled, pushing closer, practically climbing onto his lap, despite the dull ache in her injured leg. She wrapped her arms around his neck, squirming to find a comfortable spot that would take pressure off of her wound. Finally, Oliver took pity, leaning her down onto the floor and hovering over her as he trailed a line of kisses down her jaw, nipping and sucking as he went. She couldn’t help the soft sounds that escaped her when he found a spot right below her ear.

Just as one of his hands started to make its way under her sweatshirt, the sound of glass crunching pulled them back to reality. And it really was a sign of how on edge she was that even mid-makeout with Oliver Queen she still managed to be alert enough to hear it. Oliver lowered himself on top of her, covering her body with his, and motioned for her to stay quiet—like she needed to be told—as he reached to flick off the tiny flashlight beside them, plunging them back into complete darkness.

“Hey, look!” a male voice shouted, then more footsteps and the sound of the metal security gate being pulled back as someone crawled inside. Then more someones followed.

“Free snacks!” a woman laughed as they entered the convenience store and began padding around.

“You think there’s any money in the register?” someone asked and Felicity froze, her eyes locking onto Oliver’s. There were at least three of them, and god only knew what sort of weapons they had. Even with Oliver’s bow and Felicity’s gun, she still didn’t want to go against an assault rifle or any other heavy weaponry in such close quarters. Even a handgun could do real damage if they weren’t careful. If these people found them behind the counter…

“No way,” the woman said. “The register’s all smashed up. Besides, no one’s stupid enough to leave cash in a place like this on Purge night.” She laughed again before stomping around some more. “But there’s plenty of Twinkies over here if you want to stock up.”

The man clearly didn’t appreciate her teasing because there was a loud, “Shut up!” followed shortly after by a thud.

“What the hell are you two doing?” the first guy asked, sounding exasperated.

Felicity was distracted from the rest by Oliver levering himself off of her and helping her into a crouching position. He peeked over the counter, eyes shooting around the store quickly, before handing her the gun then grabbing his bow and quiver and gesturing for her to follow him towards the security gate. After a brief look outside to make sure these people didn’t have lookouts, he gestured for her to go first and she tried her best not to make any noise despite all of the glass. Luckily, whoever these people were, they didn’t seem to be listening, too busy taunting each other and looking for snacks.

Once they were both outside, Felicity grabbed Oliver’s hand, pulling him around the side of the building. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but his hand in hers kept her grounded.

He looked around quickly, then motioned for her to follow him down the alley. “Come on, before they come back out.”

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, trailing after him, gun at the ready.

Oliver looked back over his shoulder, smile on his face despite the situation. “Get through this night alive so we can continue where we left off.”

The laugh that escaped her was inappropriate for so many reasons, but it felt good. Her hand in his felt good. Kissing him had felt really good.

Tonight had been the kind of night where nothing good happened. If Oliver turned out to be the one exception to that… well, she’d still rather they’d bumped into each other at Queen Consolidated or something, but she’d take whatever silver lining she could find in this living nightmare of a situation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! I know I said that this was going to be the last chapter, but I am a liar. Seriously, don't ever believe me when I guesstimate number of chapters. I hope you enjoy this though and I will try my hardest not to take another year to update.

“I don’t wanna be that person,” Felicity said as they rounded the corner of yet another nondescript brick building, “but are we there yet?”

They’d been walking for hours. Literally. Hours. She wasn’t even being hyperbolic. They'd walked clear across the city. Her wounded leg was killing her and she didn't want to even think about the blisters she was sure to find on her feet the moment she had a chance to take her shoes off. Instead she concentrated on putting one foot ahead of the other and keeping up with Oliver. He’d said they were getting close to Verdant twenty minutes ago, but everything looked the same as it had on every other block they’d past for the last half hour, so if they were she couldn’t tell. Nothing screamed nightclub to her.

They hadn’t even seen another human in nearly an hour. They heard them from time to time, gunshots or shouting in the distance, but they hadn’t seen anyone. Felicity was grateful and even Oliver seemed to be letting his guard down a little as they came closer and closer to the safety Verdant provided. His eyes still darted in all directions before they made a move, but he’d long since slung his bow over his shoulder.

“We’re close,” he repeated, stopping to glance at the street signs, and she leaned back against the brick building, shifting her weight from foot to foot to try to take the pressure off. It wasn't working. Oliver looked to the right, taking in their surroundings, before nodding ahead of them. “Just two more blocks, I think.”

The unmistakable squeak of wheels turning broke the quiet and they both paused. Oliver raised one finger to his lips, the other hand bringing up his bow. He stepped forward, placing himself in front of her, just as a woman wearing a pig mask pushed a shopping cart out into the middle of the street half a block down.

Her hair was in a knot on the top of her head, brown strands sticking out in all directions. Wispy curls surrounded the pink mask, creating a glowing halo under the street lamps. The shopping cart was full of liquor bottles and guns. She pushed it across the intersection, humming to herself, the mask amplifying and distorting the sound. It, mingled with the squeaking wheels of the cart, created an unsettling soundtrack to the otherwise silent scene.

Felicity watched from around Oliver’s huge bicep as the woman continued around a corner, totally oblivious to the fact she wasn’t alone. Either that or she just didn’t care. Oliver lowered his bow slightly, recognizing that the woman wasn’t a threat. At least, not to them. After another minute he turned back to Felicity, but the sudden rumble of engines cut him off before he could speak. She watched, eyes wide, as three black SUVs hurdled down the road in their direction.

A strong arm banded across her midsection, tugging her back around the building, just as the SUV’s got close enough to see her. Her whole body was pressed against the wall, her back to Oliver's chest, as the vehicles passed, moving so quickly Felicity could feel the suddenly displaced air woosh around them. Oliver's heart beat rapidly against her back, in sync with her own, as they watched the vehicles make a sharp right at the next intersection. The same direction they were heading.

Towards Verdant.

“Oliver…”

She felt a rush of warm air brush across her cheek as he exhaled before pulling back. His voice tinged with the same panic that had begun pumping through her veins.

“If that was Malcolm we don't have much time. He’ll force his way into the club and after that it's only a matter of time until he realizes there's a bunker.” He looked at her, meeting her eyes directly as he said, “We have to run.”

Felicity nodded, putting her weight on her good leg and trying to block out the ache in her feet. She could run two blocks. She’d survived a psychotic clown, a deranged billionaire’s coup, a rocket launcher attack, and being hunted like an animal for sport. She could run two blocks.

Oliver took her hand and started forward, down the same street the SUV’s had taken, at a much faster pace than Felicity was entirely comfortable with. But she could do this. She had to do this.

“If we cut through the alley, we’ll be able to sneak in through the back parking lot,” Oliver huffed, pointing to a gap between buildings. Felicity didn’t know whether to feel vindicated that their journey had managed to wear Oliver out almost as much as it had worn her out, or to worry because the last thing they needed right now was for Oliver to lose focus because he was tired.

As they entered the alley—strewn with garbage, blood, and debris that she really didn’t want to think about—Felicity could see the chain link fence surrounding Verdant’s parking lot in between the buildings up ahead. She really wasn’t sure she’d be able to scale it with her leg, but she was sure as hell ready to try. She’d do just about anything for some semblance of safety after the past few hours.

They were almost to the end of the alley when Oliver stopped dead in his tracks so suddenly that Felicity looked up at him to see what was wrong. He was looking down at his feet and she followed his gaze. That’s when she saw the cable, pulled taut by his shoe. Before she could even process words like _tripwire_ or _booby_ _trap_ , a metallic hiss sliced the air, along with a very large axe.

It arched through the alley, close enough that Felicity swore she could feel the cold steel on her nose. In reality they had a handful of inches separating them from the axe, but the blood stains on the blade reminded her that they were lucky.

A peal of hysterical laughter rang out from above, and Felicity glanced up towards the rooftops, but couldn't make anyone out. Instead of going for his bow like she thought he would, Oliver gripped her hand tighter, eyes still following the pendulum swing of the axe.

“On three,” he said. “One, two, three!”

He jumped forward over the cable and past the axe, tugging Felicity with him and to the mouth of the alley. The disembodied laughter followed after them, but one voice rang out over it.

“Good luck,” it said, and the carefree amusement in that voice made Felicity's stomach turn.

How could anyone play games like that with human lives? Somehow, with all she'd been through tonight, this was the thing that went too far. Men sitting on rooftops, waiting to see how many people fell into their trap. Just for the hell of it. A mental image of the men sword fighting outside her apartment came to mind, followed by Slade and Isabel stalking through the darkness of the arena. Malcolm Merlyn plunging a knife into Robert Queen’s chest. What the hell was wrong with people?

Oliver’s expression was stony, but he just pulled her along faster, possibly afraid these men wouldn't be satisfied with someone escaping their alley of doom. They spilled out onto the street, ducking behind a destroyed car. It was missing a windshield and the right side had been all but demolished, but it was enough to give them cover as they took in their surroundings.

She could see Verdant now, its bordering fence backed up to the buildings across the street. Oliver leaned forward, head swiveling left then right, making sure the coast was clear. He readied his bow, glancing back at the rooftops behind them. She followed his gaze, but didn't see anything.

“I don’t think they’re coming after us,” she whispered. “Just a bunch of cowardly psychos.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. She looked back to see guilt in his eyes. “I didn’t see it. There was blood… but I still didn’t see it.”

“The tripwire?” she asked, laying a hand on his bicep. “I didn't see it either.”

“No,” he said, shaking her off. “I should have seen it.”

“Your tired, injured,” she whispered. “We’ve been fighting for our lives for like six hours. We’ve barely eaten or had anything to drink.” She reached up, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to meet her eye. “We need a break. We need to get into that bunker.”

“What if…” he said quietly, trailing off as more laughter trickled down from the rooftops.

His gaze snapped back up, as focused as she’d seen him all night. He squeezed her hand once before gesturing for her to run. Keeping low, he guided her further down the street and into the space between buildings, paying careful attention to his footing. Luckily there were no traps this time. A loud gunshot rang out, followed by the sounds of a machine gun. It wasn't close, but Felicity still flinched, her hand seeking the hem of his T-shirt to hold onto as they moved closer to the fence surrounding Verdant. It was taller than she’d have liked it to be, especially since the alley was empty of any kind of dumpster or boxes to climb on.

They approached cautiously, keeping low to survey the area without giving away their position. Malcolm’s convoy was already parked near the club’s entrance. One of the men barked orders, while the others pulled equipment from the backs of the SUVs. There were hard cases that she assumed contained weapons, and what looked like a police battering ram only… larger. Much larger. She couldn’t see the front of the building, but she assumed they were planning to bust down the door.

“Shit! We’ve got to get in there before they do,” Oliver said, quickly glancing around before looking back at her. “I’m going to give you a boost. Swing your legs over the top and then wait for me to climb over and catch you.”

She hesitated, but only for half a second before she gathered what little energy she had in her body. Safety—relative safety, at least—was just feet away now. One more burst and they’d be safer then they’d been all night. You know, as long as she was able to get the computer up and running. And if Malcolm’s goons didn’t massacre them all first.

Oliver must have guessed at her train of thought because he said, “I’ve seen how good you are with electronics. Those people in there, my sister and friends… They need us—they need _you_ —in there to protect them. Right now you’re probably our greatest asset against Malcolm.”

Something bloomed in her chest at his confidence, even as fear coursed through her. She nodded and he crouched close to the fence, bracing his hands on his knee to help give her a boost up. She tried to be as quiet as possible as she maneuvered her bad leg over the fence. It rattled more than she’d have liked, but no one started shooting at her, so it must have been okay. Once he was sure she was alright, Oliver hopped the fence easily, then grabbed onto her hips, and helped settle her to the ground.

“There’s a fire escape around back we might be able to use.” He was fixated on the men near the front of the building, but started moving towards the back, pushing her along ahead of him. Felicity followed his lead, keeping low to the ground to avoid any unwanted attention.

The parking lot was barren and empty, except for a large green dumpster near the back of the building. Felicity blew out a sigh of relief once they were close enough to take cover behind it. Malcolm’s men hadn’t spotted them as they rounded the corner of the building, and no one was waiting for them around back. Felicity sent up a silent thank you to whoever was listening for their good luck.

The fire escape was nothing more than a narrow zigzagging staircase that led to a door about twenty feet off the ground. At the top, Felicity took in the steel door and the protective barriers covering the windows before turning back to Oliver.

“Please tell me you actually have a way in? Like keys… or a crowbar?”

Shooting her a sheepish smile, he started pounding on the door. It was quick series of raps followed by a slower set. He repeated that pattern a couple of times while Felicity just stared at him with an open mouth.

“Your plan was to just bang on the door and hope someone lets us in?” she hissed, not wanting to draw any attention their way.

“I had keys,” he said defensively. “But those guys that grabbed us took them before they brought us to the arena. John’s inside, I know he is. He’ll hear us.”

“And what if he assumes it’s Malcolm’s goons trying to break the door down?”

“That’s why the SOS,” he said, banging out another set of raps on the door. Quick, slow, quick.

Felicity didn’t know much Morse code, but she did remember learning how to tap out SOS as a kid. She had to say, she was slightly impressed that Oliver knew it. She hadn’t remembered until he mentioned it.

Gravel crunched below them and she glanced down to see two men dressed in black military gear round the corner of Verdant. Oliver, having the reflexes of a superhero, pulled an arrow from his quiver, notched it, and managed to push Felicity behind him all in one motion.

She wasn’t sure if they’d heard the banging or if one of them made a noise, but the men looked right at them.

“Hey!” one of them shouted as the other said, “We’ve got two around back.”

Oliver let an arrow fly just as they were raising their guns. It lodged in one of the men’s shoulders and he fell back, his gun shooting off several rounds as he hit the asphalt. Oliver shot at the other man, but he darted back behind the corner and the arrow thunked as it harmlessly embedded itself in the wall.

Felicity could hear shouts and footsteps growing closer and knew it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed by Malcolm’s men. The man below edged out from around the corner just enough to fire an uncoordinated spray of bullets into the staircase. The sound of the bullets hitting metal and ricocheting had Felicity ducking and covering her head. Oliver launched another arrow, this one clipping the gun and sending it careening out of the man’s hands just as the door beside them creaked open. Felicity barely had time to turn her head before John Diggle was pulling her inside the building.

“Oliver, let’s go!” he said as more men made it to the bottom of the stairs.

He ducked inside and Dig slammed the door behind him, drowning out the shouts of the men who were undoubtedly racing up the fire escape, trying to get inside. Dig set the manual locks in place and then turned to look them over. Felicity leaned back against the wall beside the door, breathing deeply and just trying not to cry in relief. Oliver, meanwhile, was taking in his surroundings. Looking for the others or just making sure none of the other entrances were compromised, she didn’t know, but she did know he could have at least had the decency to look affected by almost being turned to Swiss cheese just now.

“Thea and the others?” he asked, turning back to Dig.

“They’re downstairs,” he said, and she watched as a little of the tension left Oliver’s shoulders. “I was up here waiting in case you guys showed up.” Dig’s eyes skated over the—several—injuries they’d both collected over their hours apart from the rest of the group. “You two alright?”

“Felicity needs first aid,” Oliver said, eyes still sweeping the room. “But it’ll have to wait until she gets a chance to look at the computers.”

Dig looked over at her, a considering expression on his face. “You can really get them working?”

She shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“It won’t take them long to make it inside,” Oliver cautioned. “Not with the equipment they’re setting up out there.”

Dig nodded, gesturing for them to follow him.

The empty nightclub was surreal in the darkness, but Felicity barely had time to think about it—about how there should be patrons here tonight, drinking and dancing instead of murdering each other outside—before Dig and Oliver led her down a set of stairs and towards the bar on the main floor. Felicity had a brief urge to grab the closest bottle and try to drink this awful night away, but then Oliver took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers, and she looked over to see him shooting her a small smile.

“We made it,” he whispered, and she smiled back.

Dig led them down a short hallway to another steel door. This one was thicker than the one outside. Nearly two feet wide to keep out anyone trying to get in. The sight was a welcome one and she squeezed Oliver’s hand tight as they descended a flight of stairs into the safety of the basement below, the heavy door clicking shut behind them.

They’d barely made it halfway down the stairs before Thea cried, “Ollie!”

Felicity smiled at the sight of the girl looking just as she had before they’d been separated. Oliver hurried to meet her at the bottom of the staircase where she threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her close, murmuring something while the girl nodded.

Deciding to give them some privacy, Felicity took the moment to look around. The bunker was essentially just a basement, but there were cots were pushed into neat rows along the walls. Tommy and Laurel sat on one, Roy on another. Aside from Tommy, they all looked as healthy as they had when they’d been separated.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Thea pulled back from her brother to wrap her arms around Felicity’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Felicity hugged her back. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.” When Thea pulled away she looked over towards Laurel and the others. “I’m glad you’re all okay.”

“ _Are_ you okay?” Thea asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she took in their bloodied bandages.

“Little worse for the wear,” Oliver said, reaching out to give his sister’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “But we’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, least we’re not out there anymore,” Felicity said, motioning up towards the door, where Malcolm’s men were undoubtedly trying to break into the nightclub.

“Not sure in here’s any better. Not with him out there,” Tommy said. His gaze fell and he heaved a shaky breath. “I always knew my father was a bastard. It seems I grossly overestimated him.”

Laurel wrapped her arm tightly around his waist, careful to avoid his injury, which looked pretty bad from where Felicity was standing. His shirt was soaked through with blood and his skin had taken on a gray pallor, but he had gauze wrapped around his shoulder so she assumed someone had tried to fix him up a little.

Felicity agreed that being trapped in a basement while a mad man tried to break in wasn’t the best of circumstances to find yourself in on Purge night, but with the way Tommy looked, she was certain he wouldn’t survive another five minutes outside, let alone another four hours until dawn. The bunker was where he needed to be and they would be safe down there. The question was, would they be safe enough to make it till morning?

“Here,” Oliver said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “The computer’s over here.”

A rudimentary but functioning med station had been set up by the stairs and across from it was a desk with a computer. Not exactly a state of the art system, but it was nothing to scoff at. And if it powered the door locks and whatever else Oliver had installed, then it would do. She sat at the desk, cracked her knuckles, and got to work.

“There’s a program on the desktop…” Oliver started to explain, but Felicity was already ten steps ahead of him.

She spent the next two minutes figuring out why their system hadn’t worked in the first place—a mix of incorrect settings and a poor user interface—and the next fifteen after that making sure everything was working correctly. The electronic locks clicked on first, both in the bunker and upstairs in Verdant. Next was the ventilation system—very important in case Malcolm tried to smoke them out or poison them. Oliver and Dig had done a good job on this place. Nearly nothing could get through. Not without time and lot of brute force.

She clicked over into the security cameras, watching as the screen filled with twelve small video panels. Each one showed a different image. The four on top were of outside, including the front entrance. The four in the middle were of inside the club, and the four on the bottom showed all of the exits. More of them then she would have liked showed Malcolm’s men, working to find their way inside.

“How long?”

Felicity jumped, her hand shooting out to cover her heart, before she looked up to see Oliver staring past her at the camera feeds.

“Until they make it inside?” he clarified. “How long would you say?”

“Uh…” Felicity thought about it. “Honestly, I’d be surprised if they’re not in within twenty minutes. But down here…? You did a pretty good job of this. It could take them days.”

“They have electronics,” he said gesturing to the top right camera where a man was unloading computer equipment from the back of one of the SUVs.

“If they’re going to try to hack their way in they’re in for a rude awakening,” she said, leaning back in her chair and watching the cameras. “That’s the least of our problems.”

If it were just her versus another hacker, she’d be confident they wouldn’t get in. The bunker’s system had been air-gapped, running on an internal network with no access to the internet. Malcolm’s guy might be able to circumvent the outside locks, but he’d never touch the system itself. It was the small army Malcolm had working for him that gave Felicity pause. She could stave off a digital attack, but a physical one?

Oliver must have noticed the tension in her voice, because he leaned in, his hand falling to her shoulder. “We’ll be okay,” he said, voice soft and overly confident.

She hoped he was right.


End file.
